


put your curse in reverse

by interropunct



Series: the kids aren't alright [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, M/M, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Street Racing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interropunct/pseuds/interropunct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan was getting by in life despite the overabundance of money, alcohol and nightmares. Then he picked up a guy off the street in a seedy part of D.C. one night. The guy's name was Adam and he was going to change everything.</p><p>Companion fic to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4479488">blessed be the boys</a> from Ronan's POV. But you don't need to read that first to understand this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bring on the rapture

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete and new chapters should be posted every Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday. Thanks to @brujeriiia on tumblr for being a fantastic beta!!
> 
> Specific warnings for this chapter: Mentions of past Ronan/Kavinsky and Ronan/Gansey, mentions of alcohol abuse.

When Ronan turned eighteen he inherited three million dollars and a home he couldn’t use. At the time it nearly killed him: the freedom, the helpless power, the longing for things he couldn’t have. Gansey was the only thing that kept him going, kept him from drinking himself into an early grave, kept him from wasting all his money on things he didn’t want or need. There was one particularly long and terrible jag, where Ronan vomited more alcohol and bile than his body could have ever held, and he missed his father and his mother and Matthew and, hell even Declan, like a hole in his chest. Afterwards, he’d walked into a lawyer’s office, narrowly avoided getting thrown out, and signed a piece of paperwork officially giving Gansey control over his personal assets. The lawyer clearly thought he was crazy, signing away all his money to some kid who had more money than he knew what to do with, but it was the best decision Ronan had ever made.

 

Gansey, with the help of his father’s financial advisor, invested the money right alongside his own inheritance. The interest and dividends were enough to live on, more than enough really, if he didn’t spend it on useless shit. Gansey bought the top floor of a building in D.C. and charged Ronan minimal rent. And he stayed in town most of the time, keeping an eye on Ronan, keeping him grounded, but just when Ronan was doing better, Gansey would jet off to someplace else and leave the apartment as haunting and empty as Ronan’s insides.

 

Ronan let the world spin around him. He ran across some street racers on his twenty-first birthday and that turned into a thrilling, dangerous, life-affirming mess. After, there was a restraining order that neither of them kept to and fewer nightmare creatures tripping over the booby traps Ronan had set up around the loft. Things were… better. For a while at least.

 

Ronan travelled some with Gansey but he always started to feel that sick sense of being too far from home. His dreams would get hazy and disconnected and  _ normal _ . He didn’t like waking up without thinking about what might be in his hands.

 

Twenty-four hit him hard. It was almost twenty-five, and never, through all of his darkest days, had Ronan ever thought he would live to be twenty-five. Now it was encroaching and his hands itched. He took to driving the BMW in aimless circles for whole days at a time. He only felt alive with the growl of the engine under his feet, even when Kavinsky was nowhere to be found, and really the BMW was still the closest he could get to home.

 

Ronan finally answered Gansey’s calls on the second day because his back was aching from sleeping in the car and he wanted to hear his best friend’s voice. Gansey, the traitor, proceeded to drag Ronan back to the apartment through sheer commanding tone. Once there, Ronan was bullied into the shower, made to sit patiently while Gansey buzzed his hair and then guilted into cleaning up his car. The second part was actually nice, his hair had been getting a little long. And this last part was done with next to no complaint because honestly, Ronan cared significantly more about the state of his car than the state of anything else including the apartment. He then collapsed into his huge, soft, proper,  _ perfect _ bed and slept for a whopping (for him) nine hours before waking at eleven to Gansey’s light snores.

 

Before the itch in his veins could turn into an itch for a bottle, Ronan was out and back on the street. There was something darkly pulsing and alive about a city after dark, especially the seedier neighborhoods. Ronan loved it. He drove from one sleeping tourist trap to the next, reveling in the filth and shadows in between. Unconsciously, his foot eased off the gas pedal and the car slowed. He passed two girls on a street corner, tight shirts and short skirts advertising exactly what they were selling. Ronan didn’t slow down.

 

He didn’t slow down as he passed a boy the next street over either. He was standing under a streetlamp, the forced casual set of his arms speaking as clearly as the girls’ outfits. Ronan turned right at the end of the next block. Then, not thinking about it, he turned right again. By the time he turned left, back on the boy’s street going the opposite direction, a thought was formulating in his mind. He stopped and rolled the window down.

 

“Hey!” he called, over the ever-present music as his pulse started to thunder like the moment before waking from a nightmare.

The guy walked over slowly and Ronan almost lost his nerve. Ronan didn’t hear what the guy said, only saw his mouth move.

“Do you fuck?” he asked, eyes caught on long fingers curled over the window and into the car.

“No.” It was sharp and final but before Ronan could even pull a ‘go fuck yourself’ sneer onto his face the next words were coming. “But I can suck you off.”

The guy was beautiful. The harsh yellow light of the streetlamps turned his cheeks into sharp shadows and his hair into shining dusty filament. Ronan couldn’t imagine being able to touch such a creature.

 

His mouth, unheeded, was asking, “How much?”

“Fifty.” Not much, although Ronan had no idea what things like this were supposed to cost.

“Where?” he asked, because it seemed wrong for this beautiful boy to get on his knees in the filthy alleys Ronan had been appreciating not ten minutes before.

“Wherever you want.” came the reply.

“Get in.” he said, unlocking the doors. Now the thrumming in his veins was back a thousand fold. Ronan was about to vibrate out of his skin and he jerked the car back into movement just to feel the engine purr.

He didn’t really know the area so he drove in the direction that felt right until they hit on a hotel. He didn’t really want to leave the safety of the car, which of course meant he forced himself out of it almost before it finished moving. He listened for the barely there thump of the guy’s footsteps behind him.

 

Ronan got them a room and got into it in record time. Or what he assumed was record time. It seemed pretty fast.

Once in the room he proceeded to question every single thought that had led him here. This was not a dream, he couldn’t control anything here. And it wasn’t drunken, vicious groping with Kavinsky or sloppy, late-night kisses with Gansey when they were still mostly kids. This was some nameless dude sucking him off in a hotel room.

“You have a name?”

“Ronan.”

 

This wasn’t the thrilling kind of dangerous. This was alcohol poisoning dangerous. This was fighting with Declan for the last time before he left. This was washing dirt and night horror blood off his hands while Gansey slept.

 

It was stupid and pointless and not really dangerous at all if he was being honest. Yeah, it was technically illegal but Ronan had done worse and he was fairly certain this guy was not a cop. But it still felt like a risk.

“You still want to do this?”

“Yes.” Ronan snapped automatically. Fuck this guy for second guessing him, even if Ronan was second guessing himself. Not letting himself think about it more, Ronan yanked off his shirt and turned to face him. Looking at him was actually reassuring. It reminded Ronan why he wanted to do this in the first place. He unzipped his fly and flicked open his button, feeling like the uncertain energy and doubt and  _ want _ were going to engulf him.

 

The boy crossed the room and kneeled in front of Ronan, as if it was that easy. As if there was nothing strange or dirty or wrong about any of this. Maybe for him there wasn’t.

Ronan tried to control his breathing as he pulled out his cock. But the instant the guy took Ronan in hand and guided Ronan’s dick into his mouth, easy and careful, Ronan’s breath rushed out of him.

 

His hands found their way into the guy’s hair and it was just as soft as it looked, smooth against Ronan’s palms. There was just enough to hold onto which was good because otherwise Ronan thought he might do something drastic.

Ronan had never given much thought to virginity. It was useless high school bullshit and Ronan didn’t give a shit. He liked getting himself off but involving other people seemed more messy than it was worth. Now though, the guy’s tongue ran along the underside of his cock and Ronan suddenly felt like he might have been missing a crucial bit of information about what sex was all about.

 

He couldn’t process everything, couldn’t get past the wet heat and the savage pleasure of it. He was paralyzed by the feeling of someone else’s hands on him, someone else’s mouth. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the guy, from the fine-boned beauty of him. Something about him reminded Ronan of a bird in flight, effortless beating of wings and his hair like dusty feathers between Ronan’s fingers.

 

A choked off noise issued, unbidden, from Ronan’s mouth as he felt the head of his cock brush the back of the guy’s throat. He let go of his grip on the boy’s hair for a moment, shocked into helpless movement. Then immediately gripped it again, not yet ready to feel like he was slipping off the edge of the world once more. But he found, to his surprise, that he felt grounded.

 

The guy looked up and Ronan met his eyes. They were blue like sun illuminating a deep well, like the night sky through a telescope. Looking at him was like slamming on the brakes, force and energy, body tensing. Ronan bit his lip to stop from crying out. Everything was a fever dream: bright and sharp, just on the edge of too much.

 

His orgasm bubbled and burned in his gut, heating him until he thought he might burst. He forced his hands to relax and tried to get his mouth to form a warning. But Ronan’s body was no longer his own, it belonged to the boy kneeling before him. The guy pulled back a little as Ronan tensed and came. Everything felt hot: his pulsing dick, his sweaty palms; his eyes on fire. 

 

The guy pulled away completely and Ronan scrubbed at his eyes, trying to push out the pain. Then he ran his hand over his head. God, he was a sweaty mess. He kept his eyes closed as he pulled his pants back on and grabbed for his shirt.

 

But no. He dropped the shirt and threw himself on the bed just as the first tear slipped down his face. He didn’t know what was happening. He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t  _ crying _ . But his eyes were watering and the guy was still standing there and Ronan didn’t want to have to explain, well, anything really.

 

“Take your money.” he said, gesturing to where he’d left his wallet. He blinked rapidly into the dark space between his arm and the bedspread. He listened to the rustle of bills and then the quiet footsteps and finally the click of the door shutting.

 

Now that he was alone the embarrassment eased and he could breathe again. And the thing was, he breathed easier than he had in weeks. Not physically. Physically, he was still sweating and just this side of panting. But deeper, beneath his heaving lungs, there seemed to be more space in his chest cavity, as though all the junk and debris had been removed.

As the sweat and tears dried, Ronan slid quietly into sleep. 

  
He woke up with handfuls of deep blue flowers.


	2. the rush in my veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This seemed too easy, Ronan thought, a few blocks away. When had Ronan’s life ever been that fucking easy?  
> But there, under the exact same streetlight, on the corner of Stafford and 21st, was he. Ronan wanted to crow in glorious victory. He didn’t know exactly what he had won, but it felt as though the universe was down one in their constant battle. Ronan pulled to a stop.  
> “Hey.” The guy’s voice was milk and honey and just a tiny hint of cinnamon. Ronan wanted to hear more of it.  
> “Hey.”  
> “How can I help you tonight?” It was casual and polite and had to be completely sarcastic. Ronan barked a laugh before he could stop himself.  
> “What do you think I want?” Ronan said and it was meant to be teasing but it came out sleazy and strange. Ronan grimaced. “Same price?” he asked quickly.

Ronan was not a liar. So if anyone had asked, he would have told them that he dreamt of the boy every night. If they asked about his plans, he would tell them he slept through the afternoons so he could spend all evening into early morning driving slowly through all the crappy neighborhoods he could find. But lucky for Ronan, no one knew to ask.

 

He knew it was weird. Sure, the boy had been pretty but Ronan had seen pretty guys before. Hell, trolling these areas he’d seen other boys just as pretty, probably willing to do just as much if not more. But Ronan wasn’t looking for an orgasm, or a pretty face, he was looking for a moment of peace and some part of him believed he would only find it again if he found that boy. 

 

As the week wore on Ronan started to fray. First it was snapping at service workers if they did even the tiniest thing wrong. Then it was snapping before they’d done anything wrong. Then, when Gansey called him an asshole for it, it was snapping at Gansey.

 

Ronan hadn’t told him what he’d been spending his nights doing. He’d just been disappearing and Ronan knew Gansey was worried about him. But he couldn’t get over the idea that if he just found the guy again he’d be… who knows, better? Safe? Okay for a little while? None of that made sense but that had been what it had felt like to be with that guy so Ronan kept chasing it.

He got a text from Kavinsky around 11:00PM on Friday.

_ hey shitsqueak you ready to lose? _

 

It had been a week. If he didn’t find the guy tonight he probably wasn’t going to. Ronan felt wound tight and anxious, skin too tight and clothes too rough.

_ i’d say bet your car on it but I dont want that japanese piece of shit _

Ronan checked out the areas where he’d seen the most late night street traffic over the past week. Then, as the clock slid into the AMs, he checked back where he’d met the guy the week before. This seemed too easy, Ronan thought, a few blocks away. When had Ronan’s life ever been that fucking easy?

 

But there, under the exact same streetlight, on the corner of Stafford and 21 st , was he. Ronan wanted to crow in glorious victory. He didn’t know exactly what he had won, but it felt as though the universe was down one in their constant battle. Ronan pulled to a stop.

“Hey.” The guy’s voice was milk and honey and just a tiny hint of cinnamon. Ronan wanted to hear more of it.

“Hey.”

“How can I help you tonight?” It was casual and polite and had to be completely sarcastic. Ronan barked a laugh before he could stop himself.

“What do you think I want?” Ronan said and it was meant to be teasing but it came out sleazy and strange. Ronan grimaced. “Same price?” he asked quickly.

 

The guy nodded and got it. In time with the door closing Ronan felt his phone buzz, no doubt a text from Kavinsky asking where the fuck he was. Whatever, he was on his way now, Kavinsky could fucking wait. But he may have sped to get on the quickest highway heading out of town toward their usual racing spot.

 

“Where are we going?” the guy asked after a minute.

“I’ve got somewhere to be.” Ronan said, to cover up the fact that he hadn’t actually thought this far. What the fuck was he going to do with this guy once he got to the drag strip?

“I didn’t agree to that.” Ronan looked over at the guy. He was taut, caught between fight and flight. It was a look Ronan knew all too well.

“I’ll pay you double.” Ronan said quickly, not really seeing what this guy’s problem was. Did he think Ronan would just leave him to find his own way home? “And I’ll drop you wherever you want when we’re done.”

 

“Fine.” But he sounded pissy. Whatever, he agreed and Ronan had the money so it didn’t really matter. Then after a second, as if it had just occurred to him, he said, “Ronan.”

“Yeah, what about it?” Ronan asked, because when he’d said it, the word had almost sounded like another word entirely and it reminded Ronan of something.

 

“Nothing. Just... someone’s going to come looking for me.”

Ronan snorted, because what the fuck did that mean? He had a fucking curfew? “Sure, dude.” He just barely bit back the ‘I’ll have you home by nine’ because this wasn’t some high school date and the guy probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison very much.

Then it occurred to him that it might be some kind of threat. Have to be back or else. Did this guy have a pimp? Ronan didn’t really like that idea but whatever, wasn’t his business, wasn’t his problem.

 

Now that he was actually here, Ronan didn’t know what to do. He wanted so much, wanted to look his fill, wanted to hear that hint of a southern drawl the boy kept biting back, wanted to touch and be touched. Mostly, though, Ronan wanted to know his  _ fucking name _ . It had been bothering Ronan for an entire week, not having a name to go with the face. Maybe the guy hadn’t introduced himself on purpose, maybe it was bad form to ask for someone’s name with a transaction like this. But Ronan kind of didn’t give a shit about whatever niceties existed in this fucked up social space.

 

“So, what’s your…” He left the sentence hanging for the guy to fill in the rest. But the guy just made a noise like he didn’t get it. Shit, had Ronan accidently picked up an idiot? “What’s your name?” Ronan asked, maybe ruder than he meant to.

 

“Adam.” he said. Ronan wondered, briefly if it was a fake name. It sounded nice and wholesome which might have been some kind of joke, like a stripper named Steve Rogers, or maybe it was a subtle ‘you don’t know me from Adam, so fuck off’. Either way Ronan really didn’t have anything else to go on so he took whatever Adam was willing to give him and accepted it as fact.

 

Adam, Ronan decided as they fell into silence, was a nice name even if it was fake.

 

Ronan made the last half-hour of the trip in twenty minutes as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was going to when he got there. Mostly, he just wanted to show Adam this thing, this glorious thrilling thing that he knew how to do. It was stupid, but it felt a little like Ronan owed Adam for making him feel good last week. This was the best way besides booze that Ronan knew to make himself happy. He didn’t know yet how the sex was going to factor in. Before? After? Not at all? Sex was kind of heavily implied but was it mandatory or just a suggested guidelines kind of thing?

 

Ronan wished he knew more about this shit. But honestly he knew more random facts about sex work in ancient Mesopotamia than he did about this situation. He wondered if Adam would be interested in the fact that people used to fuck priestesses in temples to honor gods and then give corresponding ‘gifts’ to the temples.

 

The strip coalesced on the horizon, rising into a mass of cars and bodies and substances that could put you in the hospital. He glanced over at Adam who was eyeing the scene warily, gaze sharp and evaluative. No, Ronan thought, no way this kid was an idiot.

 

Ronan had forgotten about Kavinsky until he saw the ugly knife graphic illuminated by the waiting cars. Shit, he thought, as his pulse soared, what the fuck was Kavinsky going to think? And then, of course, he reminded himself that he sincerely did not give a shit. He drove up alongside Kavinsky.

 

“Hey motherfucker!” Ronan called. A middle finger was Kavinsky’s thrilling rejoinder. “You ready for a re-match?” Ronan asked, well aware of the answer. He and Kavinsky were always ready for a fight.

 

“You got yourself a cheerleader this time, shithead?”

Ronan bit back a laugh because as usual Kavinsky didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. He shot a smile at Adam like he would have if Gansey had been there. He’d only actually brought Gansey once, but it had felt like this: alive and pulsing, stinging with electricity. Racing was different with someone in the passenger seat.

“Something like that.”

 

Ronan carefully nosed through the crowd toward the starting line. He could feel his pulse in his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, pounding in time with the music. He could feel the car like an extension of his body, metallic limbs crouching over the asphalt ready to leap forward. It was a dull thought in the back of his mind that registered his hardening dick. Then it raced to the front of his mind as he became aware again of Adam next to him, hands covering the ragged knees of his jeans.

 

“You ready?” he said, even as the thought was forming in his head. Adam didn’t say anything for a second, too caught up in watching the people buzz around the car like gnats. Then:

“What?”

“You ready to go?” he said and this time made a vague gesture.

“What? Now?” Adam asked and Ronan didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. All he knew was that he felt like he was going to start flying as soon as his foot hit the gas, just fucking achieve lift off and never come back to this shitpile of a planet. But he was also thinking about Adam’s mouth on his dick last week and the strange shaky peace of mind he’d had afterwards.

“Yeah now. That’s kind of the point.” Ronan said, practically hearing the refusal even as he said it. But instead Adam just said, “Oh. Okay.” As if it was that simple. Ronan’s internal RPM ticked up another notch.

 

Ronan edged the car a few feet forward as Adam curled over the gearshift. He felt his knuckles brush Adam’s stomach and somehow that felt more intimate than Adam pulling Ronan’s cock out of his pants.

 

Kavinsky’s laugh echoed from the Mitsubishi. “I always knew your friends were cocksuckers!” Kavinsky shouted but already Adam’s mouth was turning everything in Ronan’s ears into heated buzzing, like wasps without the fear. He saw the flag girl raising her arm and everything in Ronan thrilled to see it. The flag came down. 

 

The wheels spun for a fraction of a second before catching and then Ronan was thrown back in his seat as the car shot forward like a bullet to the gut. A little bit of Adam’s spit slipped from his mouth and slid hot and slick down Ronan’s balls. He let the movement echo through him as he bumped them into the next gear.

 

“Come and get me asshole.” And he meant to shout it, meant it to be a taunt to Kavinsky but instead it came out low and real, a snarled dare to every fucking demon that couldn’t touch him as long as he had the BMW around him and Adam’s tongue on him.

 

Sliding into 3 rd came as easy as breathing, but it took a little more effort to track Kavinsky shooting along beside them. Usually this moment was all about him and Kavinsky, rivalry singing in the growl of the car engines. But now the world had narrowed to Adam and BMW and just a tiny sliver of white at the corner of Ronan’s eye.

 

And then the sliver disappeared into blackness as Kavinsky fucked up the shift into 4 th , just like he always did. Ronan almost didn’t notice because Adam was sucking hard on his cock and God, Ronan wanted to shout, wanted to scream. He clenched his fists and every muscle in his body with the urge to  _ keep going _ , to race the rotation of the earth.

 

He urged the car faster, not too fast, just enough to hear the engine start to hum sweeter than a church choir. And then it was just him and Adam and the dark road. The thrill of the chase, of Kavinsky somewhere behind them, was still there but mostly it was speeding through the night for the pure joy of it.

 

Then there was a scrape of teeth and a burst of something paler than pain. And Ronan couldn’t bare it. He howled his pleasure, shouted wordlessly at the absolute carefree perfection of the moment as he urged the car just a little bit faster until it whined in protest.

 

It was the opposite of last time. He wasn’t grounded. He was lifting off. He could barely feel the seat beneath him, only felt the steering wheel, the gear shift, and Adam. The music died away as the playlist ended and then there was just the wind on his face and the sides of the road whipping past the edge of the headlights’ halo.

 

Adam’s mouth was hot and insistent, and Ronan wanted to touch him, wanted to watch him, but he also wanted to keep going, to drive off the edge of the world. Ronan couldn’t stop little wounded noises as Adam took Ronan’s cock deeper and sucked harder. It was wet, saliva slipping between Adam’s fingers. His grip was tight and his mouth was hot and the road started to fuzz in front of his eyes, going unfocused and far away.

 

It was dangerous and stupid and Ronan loved it, never wanted it to end. But carefully, as the pleasure built, he let off the gas and felt the car’s roar die into a deep grinding purr. The night disappeared behind his eyelids for long seconds before he pulled them open again.

 

Road.

 

Blackness and the back of Adam’s throat.

 

Road and the grind of the rumble strip.

 

Darkness.

 

Road as the scenery became less blur and more shapes.

 

Nothing but shivery pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

 

The car drifted to a stop and Ronan’s hand immediately fell from the steering wheel to the back of Adam’s head.  _ Yes _ .

 

He came, shuddering, just on the edge of falling apart. Again his eyes prickled and he tipped his head back so the wetness he wouldn’t call tears rolled down and into his hair. He knew once was a fluke but twice meant this was probably just something he did.

 

Ronan Lynch cried during sex.

 

It sounded like something Kavinsky would say, which was fine, because Ronan didn’t give a shit about Kavinsky or about the voice at the back of Ronan’s mind that sounded a lot like him. Dude was an asshole. Adam pulled away.

 

“Fuck.” Ronan breathed. Then he met Adam’s eyes and there was something there. Something keen and interested and  _ alive _ . It made Ronan grin. This guy was something else. “Okay.” he said, after catching his breath just a bit. He tucked his dick back in his pants and zipped them up.

 

Then he pulled back onto the road and took the next exit going back toward the city. He turned the music back on to fill the silence but it was just background noise. He kept looking at Adam out of the corner of his eye, eyeing his loose shirt and tight jeans, cataloguing the sprawl of his legs and the forcibly loose line of his shoulders.

 

Ronan Lynch didn’t do anything by half measures. He went to church every Sunday, not just holidays. He drove too fast. He loved Gansey too much. He dreamt of all the things the world was missing and woke up holding the impossible. Ronan knew what he knew, wanted what he wanted and made shit happen.

 

And now, here was something he knew: this had to happen again. And here was something he wanted: Adam. And this was what he was going to do: make shit happen.

He followed Adam’s instructions to a somewhat dingy neighborhood. It wasn’t as bad as the place Ronan picked him up from but it looked… tired.

 

Ronan handed over the money and opened his mouth to say something but Adam was already nodding and getting out of the car.

 

“Adam,” he said, tone a tad desperate as he turned down the music. Ronan never turned down the music if he could help it. He made himself relax, like in a dream: go from imagination to memory to reality. “Next Friday?”

 

Adam nodded easily and Ronan pulled away from the curb.

 

He took the long way home, but still got there in half the time. Gansey was awake, pouring over some maps and placing found objects in their place of origin. He didn’t ask where Ronan had been, just carefully checked him over for illness or injury before letting him go up to bed. But it was pointless, there was no way Ronan was getting to sleep tonight or maybe ever.

  
He wanted to be flying, falling, dreaming of doing something that could kill him. But instead he read journal articles on Latin translations of sacred texts long past the sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was looking at Google Maps of D.C. trying to find an intersection that sounded real. Found Stafford and 21st. Guess what is actually on that intersection: St. Agnes Church, I shit you not.  
> Also, message me if you want a fascinating article on prostitution in ancient Mesopotamia! (Because I, like Ronan, am a nerd.)


	3. stuck in the jet wash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam stepped forward and Ronan’s body warred between flinching away (‘you’re dangerous, don’t touch him,’ his weary mind said) and relaxing into it (‘I’m safe, it’s okay,’ Adam’s eyes seemed to argue). And in the moment of indecision Adam reached a hand out to gently touch Ronan’s hip and brushed his other fingertips over Ronan’s cheek. It felt like redemption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went over this fic with a fine-toothed comb trying to make sure there weren't any contradictions between this and "blessed be the boys" but if you notice anything wrong, please tell me!!

Fall was Ronan’s favorite season. The curling heat of summer turned mild and manageable. Gansey dragged Ronan out into the woods of the Virginia mountains looking for the ley line, and something about the petrichor and the breeze in the leaves felt soothingly familiar.

 

But the downsides of autumn were the weeks when you had the worst of both summer and winter. Hot, dripping days when the city’s stench crawled in through every crack. Dreary, cold periods when all color seemed to seep out of the world. The weather couldn’t make up its mind.

Ronan had weeks like that too. Weeks where he oscillated wildly from contentment to excitement to frenzy. Then frenzy quickly turned to exhaustion, then disappointment and anger. He wanted to be above the voices in his head, warring over which stupid thing to do next. But Ronan was a body tossed in the Atlantic, lucky enough to catch a breath now and then but otherwise just… surviving.

 

He knew he was taking it out on Gansey, knew he snapped when he should keep quiet and stayed silent when he needed to communicate. But the nice thing about Gansey was that he was a mountain in the storm and always would be. Ronan could drift away or cling tight or just throw himself against the solid surface and it would not phase Gansey’s loyalty. There was nothing in his life he relied on as much as he relied on that.

 

Perhaps less reasonably, he knew he was taking it out on Adam too. He was aware that Adam could walk away at any moment but every time he was there waiting when Ronan pulled up, he thought maybe that meant Adam would stay. And if he was going to stay, he had to see what he was staying for, see the rage and loose ends, see every ugly broken thing about Ronan. It was self-defeating and stupid but on days when Ronan hated no one so much as he hated himself, it made it a little easier if he snapped at Adam and scraped himself raw on Adam’s quiet eyes and dull teeth. But it was fine. He was dealing with it.

 

Then everything got worse.

 

He started waking up with bruises around his neck shaped like claws. He woke up with the tck-tck-tck of night horrors caught in his messily laid traps. He woke from nightmares to more nightmares over and over, for days on end. By the time Friday came, he felt undone.

 

He picked up Adam and went to a motel, that part was typical. But the whole time he was seething with fear and weariness and the knowledge that if he went to sleep, his mind would conjure up something that wanted to kill him. When they got into the room, it felt like he was choking on everything he couldn’t say.

 

“What do you need?” Adam asked, sounding almost bored. But it was exactly what Ronan needed to hear.

“I need you to make me not sleep.”

 

“I’m not a Red Bull.” Adam said and Ronan wanted to scream.

“I need you to make me not dream.” There was a second where they both contemplated that. Ronan was thinking that that had been too honest, too obvious, too strange. And Adam… who knew what Adam was thinking.

 

But after a second he nodded and started to undress.

“What are you doing?” The words grated on his throat on the way out as his tired eyes caught on the pale skin of Adam’s stomach.

 

“You’re going to fuck me, if you have a hundred bucks?”

Ronan nodded numbly. Everything in his mind had stalled, like the Pig on a bad day. He watched without comprehending as Adam stripped off his shirt and tossed lube and condoms on the bed. “I thought you didn’t do that.” he said, still not really getting it.

 

“It depends.” But it sounded like ‘I changed my mind’ which shocked Ronan into action. He nodded once more, sharply this time as his mind spun into gear. He started pulling off his clothes, feeling strange and uncertain. When he finished, Adam just looked at him for a moment and Ronan wanted to be here and anywhere but here. Nowhere would probably work.

 

Adam stepped forward and Ronan’s body warred between flinching away (‘you’re dangerous, don’t touch him,’ his weary mind said) and relaxing into it (‘I’m safe, it’s okay,’ Adam’s eyes seemed to argue). And in the moment of indecision Adam reached a hand out to gently touch Ronan’s hip and brushed his other fingertips over Ronan’s cheek. It felt like redemption.

And then they were kissing.

 

Ronan didn’t know what to do with his hands. His lips knew vaguely what to do, knew how to take what Adam was offering. But his hands shook at his sides, uncertain. Then Adam sucked on his tongue, just briefly, but it dragged Ronan out of his indecision and his hands found their way, unbidden, into Adam’s hair. Yes, he knew as soon as he’d done it, that was where they were supposed to be.

 

The kiss was all-consuming. It ate up everything, every thought, every synapse. Every single neuron of Ronan’s brain bent towards Adam like a plant to the sun. Adam was not passive but he was permissive, keeping up but not pushing ahead. Every time he met Ronan’s movements with one of his own Ronan felt as though he was reaching into Ronan’s brain and tugging to loosen one of the impossibly tangled knots up there.

 

Adam pulled away and Ronan let him go even though it pained him. But he just pulled the comforter down and guided them both so that Ronan was on top of him on the bed. He stroked Ronan’s cock almost hesitantly, although that much at least was not new. What was new was mouths and the taste of Adam on his tongue. When Adam broke away to breathe Ronan didn’t want to stop, just kept going down Adam’s neck until he got to his collarbones which he bit at gently.

 

“No marks.” Adam said but Ronan’s whole world had narrowed down to his teeth on Adam’s skin. “Ronan.” Adam tugged him away and Ronan’s mind expanded to Adam’s eyes, Adam’s hands, Adam. “No marks.” he said again and this time Ronan actually heard him. It fucking killed him because he wanted to suck and bite and worry every inch of Adam’s skin. But he nodded, because it was Adam’s body, Adam’s rules.

 

Ronan grabbed a packet of lube but his fingers wouldn’t do what he asked. He wanted to punch something just to let out all the energy bubbling under his skin. Impatient, he ripped the packet open with his teeth and smeared the lube over two fingers. Then he dropped it on Adam’s chest for later retrieval. He knew how this worked, knew the basics even if he hadn’t had any practice before. This part seemed the most complicated. Once they got to the actual fucking Ronan wasn’t worried but prep was tricky.

 

Adam had arranged himself so that Ronan was between his thighs. He didn’t allow himself to hesitate, just pushed one finger in. Adam was tight around him and Ronan’s pulse raced. If this was a dream he’d be pulling something out right now; the  _ want _ rising like a stoked fire. But he was awake, living this moment as he felt Adam start to relax around his finger.

 

Ronan felt over-eager and awkward. It helped when Adam pulled him into a kiss. Kissing he could do. Focusing on Adam’s mouth let Ronan’s mind quiet, caught in the gentle tidal movements of the kiss. Without really thinking about it he added a second finger.

 

Adam bit down on Ronan’s lip then and Ronan froze, unsure but unwilling to admit to his uncertainty. He just paused, watching Adam, trying to read his strained expression. Should Ronan stop? Had he done something wrong? Surely Adam could tell that Ronan knew fuck all about this but he wasn’t willing to bring it up on the off-chance Adam hadn’t noticed.

 

After a single tense moment the strain around Adam’s eyes seemed to ease and he pulled Ronan back into a kiss. Ronan took this as permission to resume stretching him. He scissored his fingers feeling odd and clumsy and stupid. He wished, suddenly, that they were angry, that they hated each other. It seemed like this would be easier if it was rough and hurried and meant to hurt. But it wasn’t. It was exactly the opposite, and something in Ronan protested the gentleness of his movements.

 

Maybe Ronan was full of himself or maybe he had slim fingers but two really didn’t seem like enough so he pulled back and slicked a third. Watching the smooth slide of three fingers into Adam’s ass was amazing, impossible. Ronan couldn’t fucking breathe and yet his pulse thundered on regardless. It seemed beyond improbable that he, Ronan Niall ‘Fuck-up’ Lynch, had made it this far without royally screwing something up. He would make the most of it until that happened, he thought, before falling back into a kiss.

 

He got lost like that, mind busy with the tight clutch of Adam’s body and the warm weight of his tongue. Until one of Adam’s hands drifted from its place on Ronan’s back to the space beside them. Reluctantly, Ronan stopped the kiss and gave Adam room enough to open the condom packet. The condom was pink and that seemed so incongruous. Ronan wondered vaguely if Adam got them from his pimp or if he picked up the ones the local clinics gave out for free. At least, that was what teen soaps had led him to believe.

 

His thoughts stuttered and slipped away as Adam rolled the condom onto Ronan’s dick. Now that it was time to actually do this, Ronan felt charged, energy fizzling along his arteries and veins. He slicked his cock with the last of the lube and then took a deep breath.

 

Ronan Lynch was afraid of very few things, with most of them living inside his head. He was not scared of this boy, he decided, as he took a long lingering look. There was no danger here. Only opportunity. He would not be a coward in this.

 

So he caught Adam’s eyes and held them, feeling certain of his uncertainty, unafraid through sheer force of will. And then he pushed in.

 

Adam tensed and Ronan proceeded slowly but inexorably. When he was fully seated, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, overwhelmed.

 

He’d been right, this part was easy; his body knew what to do. But he thought he was going to be torn in two with the conflicting urges to go slow and savor the moment, and go as fast as his body demanded. Because he knew himself, he knew the second urge would win. He bit back every wounded little sound that wanted to come out as he sped his thrusts.

 

He tipped forward to lean on his forearms and his chest brushed Adam’s as they breathed. It felt impossibly intimate, breathing the same air and sweat gathering where they touched. Ronan had never been this close to another human being. It tore at something inside him, something raw and wounded already.

 

Without thinking, he bit savagely into his forearm, wanting the pain and the pressure and the distraction from everything happening inside himself. It helped. It let him forget the closeness, forget the sound of Adam’s unsteady breaths and the slight cramp in his foot. Instead he could just  _ feel _ , feel the clinging heat of Adam’s body and the fast rhythm their bodies made.

 

Adam reached between them to touch himself and desire caught in Ronan’s throat. Desire for what he wasn’t sure, couldn’t think right now, but he wanted something desperately. He knew he was making noises, there was nothing to do about it, his mind was hazy and his body was in control. He could barely hear anything over the rushing in his ears, the roar of blood reminding him that he was alive, alive like racing, alive like falling from a great height. Alive like sex, it turned out.

 

Dimly he was aware of Adam coming in the negligible space between their bodies. It was messy and hot and Ronan could feel sweat trickling down to pool in the small of his back. He was close, clenched fists shaking and eyes burning, movements uncoordinated and irregular. Finally he came with a cry, jaw clenched on skin and eyelids shut tight.

 

He wanted to bask, wanted to stay here in this moment, wanted to share Adam’s space, share breath and bed and skin. But Ronan Lynch does not cuddle. So he got up and threw the condom away and then buried his face in the pillow before his eyes could betray him.

 

Adam got up and started to dress and Ronan just tried to catch his breath. The adrenaline slowly leeched away and the endorphins turned everything fuzzy. He had been tired before, now he was exhausted, body and mind yearning for restorative sleep. But he didn’t want Adam to go yet. He turned over to watch him pull on his shoes.

 

Adam nudged him.

“Why did you need to stay awake?” he asked.

Nothing seemed as desperate as it had before. The fear of the past few days was far away now but still, he answered honestly because he didn’t know how to lie.

“You ever get scared of what you can do?” Nothing was said for a moment and dimly Ronan thought that might have been a strange thing to say but he was fucked out and weary and didn’t really give a shit.

 

“No.” Adam said and Ronan just stared at the ceiling, feeling very far away from everything now that Adam was dressed and halfway across the room. “Are you going to dream?” Adam asked.

“I don’t know.” And the fear was not so far away as he would have liked, still pressed like needles along his spine. There was still the possibility that he would bring something back with him upon waking, that he would have to fight for his life because things in his head preferred him dead.

 

“Do you– I can stay?” Adam said and there was the fear, closer still, intimate and sharp.

“No.” he said, eyes pulled open. Adam had to be as far away from Ronan as possible. “No, you should go.” 

“Of course.” Adam said, and shut the door quietly behind him.

  
Ronan stared at the cracked ceiling as he thought about Adam, about sex, about dreams, about possibilities and danger of both the thrilling and terrifying kind. Finally, he was pulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	4. if you want it to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He brought back crystal balls filled with tiny perfect meadows. He brought back clumps of moss that smelled like home. He brought back fountain pens that only wrote in Latin. He brought back mysteries and wonders, and a part of him wanted desperately to show them to Adam. After all, their existence depended almost as much upon Adam as it did upon Ronan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter that doesn't have a direct corollary in blessed be the boys. I kind of liked that idea that Ronan pays attention to some things that Adam doesn't even mention as important.

Ronan didn’t realize how many things he’d catalogued about Adam until the seasons changed them. The flimsy t-shirt and the line of his collarbones was replaced with a second-hand jacket that dwarfed his slim shoulders. The sun-tinged streaks in his hair turned dull and tired. And his long-fingered and delicate hands turned red and chapped until it hurt Ronan to look at them.

Fridays nights became as much as staple in Ronan’s life as Sunday mornings. He knew there was probably something fucked up about that. Knew he was just giving himself more to confess at church every time he met Adam. But the thing was, sex had some unadvertised advantages. Namely, if he was tired before then fucking would knock him out completely. And if he’d slept some time in the previous 24 hours then fucking worked more or less like a few beers: it relaxed him, it made him easy and pliable. And more importantly, it made him king of his own dreams.

 

Sleep after sex was simultaneously soft and hurried. Even in sleep, his heart would race in remembered pleasure, his dreams would turn red and pulsing. But there was no urgency, no fear, no nightmares prowling through his mental landscape. The forest in his dream was always summery and warm. It caused sweat to prickle on Ronan’s brow as he walked, unafraid, beneath the trees. It was so easy to imagine things, in that world of possibility. And it was just as easy to bring them back when he woke, gasping like a second orgasm.

 

He brought back crystal balls filled with tiny perfect meadows. He brought back clumps of moss that smelled like home. He brought back fountain pens that only wrote in Latin. He brought back mysteries and wonders, and a part of him wanted desperately to show them to Adam. After all, their existence depended almost as much upon Adam as it did upon Ronan.

 

But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. For one thing he and Adam communicated primarily through look and touch, not words. Ronan wasn’t even sure how he’d express the relief and wonderment and gratitude that choked him when he woke up in the hotel room alone to the scent of car grease and sex. For another thing, no one could know. He’d almost told Gansey so many times. Gansey who still looked at him carefully when Ronan went sullen and quiet. Gansey who had sat in the hospital bed and refused to look at Ronan’s stitched wrists. Gansey who believed so completely in magic and yet hungered always for some hint of proof and had no idea it was sitting beside him all along.

 

Ronan couldn’t tell Gansey, couldn’t tell Adam, couldn’t tell anyone. And so the happiness sat quietly inside him as the pain had done before it, and Ronan chewed it up and spat it out as his signature brand of nonchalant vitriol and honestly he didn’t think Adam could even tell the difference. But Ronan knew.

 

Ronan knew that things were different now. He dreamt and anything was possible. He dreamt and was not afraid. And the thing was, most of the time, he dreamt of Adam.

Ronan dreamt of the second time they’d met.

 

In the dream they raced again. Kavinsky bit at their heels and whispered insults into Ronan’s ear. The night sky stretched above them huge and impossibly full of stars. But this time Ronan was the road, was the pounding music, was the car, holding Adam carefully inside himself. And this time Adam was panting, hard and alive, a heart attack in slow motion. He filled to bursting every dark space inside Ronan. And Ronan awoke with a warm silver toy exactly the size and shape of Adam’s cock pressed to his belly.

 

At first he stuffed it away with the rest of the dream things under his bed. But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. In the dream, it had been a part of him, had been an extension on his body. In the dream he could control it with a thought. And if it worked in the dream, it worked in real life.

He wanted to use it.

 

He tried it one night when Gansey was away. It felt strange at first, too solid to be fingers, too warm to be anything but alive. Then he thought about the BMW’s engine turning over and the toy purred awake. And then it was just thrilling.

 

If he worked it into himself at just the right angle it would stay with barely a fingertip of pressure to keep it seated. The other hand cupped his cock, not stroking it yet, just pressing the heel of his hand to it as the toy buzzed away inside him.

 

He felt like he couldn’t take a full breath and even as he imagined, it the toy’s pulses lined up with the frantic pump of his lungs. Carefully he spread precome from the tip of his cock down the length. He was incredibly aware that this was what Adam would feel like inside him. He forced himself to go slow, rocking the toy in short thrusts as he imagined Adam pinning his legs up, sharp hipbones digging into the backs of his thighs. He had no idea how Adam would fuck him. He usually stayed pace with Ronan when they fucked now. But he imagined if Adam set the pace, it would be slow and torturous and hard enough to leave marks. So that was how he did it, rough but unhurried as he could manage.

 

It took approximately no time at all for that plan to go out the fucking window. He imagined, if Adam was really here, this would be around the time Ronan would be raking dull nails down Adam’s back, urging him breathlessly to go faster. Ronan's hand fell into a rhythm of quick, brutal pumps as he groaned and whined, loud in the empty apartment. He came with teeth buried into his bottom lip, imagining Adam forcing his hands over his head as the toy growled and thrummed away.

* * *

Afterward, lying awake, relaxed but far from sleep, Ronan wondered how he was supposed to clean it. He hadn’t really thought about it, but in the dream it had been pure metal, no circuitry, so he could probably just boil it or stick it in the dishwasher or whatever. Dream things, once made, rarely broke.

 

After cleaning it, he balled it up in a t-shirt and took it out to the car. He didn’t let himself think of what he wanted to do with it. Which had the unintended side effect that the next time he picked up Adam, he had completely forgotten that it was there until they got into the hotel room. _Good one, Lynch_.

 

He wasn’t quite ready to use it with another person there anyway, he told himself. This was for the best. Adam’s nose and cheeks were red and splotchy from the cold. Ronan, on the other hand, was wearing three shirts layered over each other and a leather jacket with canvas lining. He hated the cold and would not stand it even for the short periods between heated room and heated car.

 

Ronan thought sometimes about how little he really knew about Adam. Ronan knew his clothes smelled like cars and his hands were usually stained. Ronan knew he fucked people for money, although he couldn’t say if it was just dudes, or women too. Adam never mentioned a pimp or other clients, or friends and family for that matter. Ronan didn’t know if Adam did this five days a week or only on weekends. Ronan didn’t know if Adam went to school or if he worked full time or if he did drugs or anything, really, about Adam. And in return Adam knew nothing about Ronan. That was how this thing worked. They were two names and several months away from an anonymous hookup but most weeks it still kind of felt… distant, like this was separate from the rest of Ronan’s life. Maybe that was part of why he liked it.

 

Adam looked more tired today than he usually did, which was saying something because he always looked kind of tired. But this time it had gotten past dead-eyed and all the way to fidgety. In the car on the way to the hotel, he had actually, quite literally twiddled his thumbs and Ronan had had to try very hard not to snicker. Now he was playing with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for some indication from Ronan of what they were going to do. Without really thinking it through he walked over and grabbed Adam’s hands from where they fiddled uselessly. He just held Adam loosely by the wrist for a moment, commanding Adam into stillness with his eyes. After a long minute, Adam let out all his breath slowly, licked his lips and carefully relaxed his hands where they brushed the front of Ronan’s shirt.

 

Then, Ronan brought his hands up to eye level and looked them over. They looked red and sore. There was a smear of grease or engine oil at the base of Adam’s thumb. Slowly, not looking Adam in the eye, Ronan brought the offending hand up and sucked the blackened skin into his mouth.

 

Adam hissed and his eyes slammed shut. But before Ronan could pull away or stop, Adam was nodding, eyes still closed. His skin tasted like gasoline smelled: dark and toxic and warm as cigarette smoke. He knew by now not to leave marks so his teeth were gentle where they scrapped chapped skin.

 

“That’s not going to help.” Adam said after a second.

Ronan shrugged, mouth still occupied. He didn’t know if Adam meant it wouldn’t get rid of the mark or wouldn’t help his skin. Finally he pulled away and looked at Adam’s hands again. The ball of his thumb was still stained but now it was also shiny and wet.

“You should use lotion.” Ronan said, off-hand and uninvested.

Adam laughed a little.

 

“Okay. Sure.” he said, in a way that indicated Ronan was crazy for saying anything.

They pulled off their clothes. Ronan’s layers took significantly longer to take off than Adam’s shitty second-hand jacket. Then Ronan settled back on the bed and raised an eyebrow. Adam obligingly settled on top of him. Ronan liked the presence of him, Adam’s knees and arms caging him in and Adam’s weight pressing his hips into the mattress. They’d never tried it like this before and Ronan liked the feeling of smirking up at Adam; it felt different and good.

 

Ronan took his time prepping him, long fingers brushing Adam’s prostate just enough for him to jerk. Adam was always beautiful but there was something particularly appealing about Adam panting and red in the face, cock heavy and hard between his legs.

 

“Get. On with it.” Adam finally said between breaths. Ronan thought about continuing, pushing Adam over the edge like this. But he really wanted Adam to ride him, so he conceded the point and rolled a condom on.

 

Then Adam settled his hands wide across Ronan chest, fingernails digging in blunt and bitten, and sunk onto Ronan’s cock. Ronan groaned deep in his throat at the feeling. Adam watched him through half-lidded eyes as his body adjusted. Then he set a steady, hard rhythm.

Ronan didn’t like just lying back; he met each of Adam’s downward strokes with an upward movement. But he loved the pressure on his chest and hips, loved being pushed back into the mattress, held down, pinned in place. Adam let his head loll back as he rolled his hips and Ronan wanted so badly to taste the taut, sweaty skin of his neck.

 

Ronan took ahold of Adam’s hips and moved them both back towards the head of the bed so that he could maybe sit up. But the movement was awkward and he gave it up quickly. Now his neck was tipped up and his gaze kept drifting down to Adam’s hands digging into the skin of his chest. There was something captivating about Adam’s hands, about the elegant utility of them, the strange dimensions of them as though they were fashioned for some other boy and just happened to end up here. As Adam once again took up his brutal pace, Ronan couldn’t help but watch his fingers go white knuckled. Ronan felt pleasure distantly tingling up his spine, then twisting in his gut, and finally building up until it almost choked him.

 

Ronan came first, biting his tongue, eyes going unfocused as his orgasm swept over him. Adam settled on his cock as it began to soften. One hand remained on Ronan’s chest while the other roughly jerked himself off. He came on Ronan’s stomach with something that was not quite a groan and not quite a sigh.

 

When he had sufficiently regained his coordination Adam levered himself off the bed and began to get dressed. Ronan, face buried characteristically in his inner elbow, wiped the come away with a corner of the sheet and dropped the condom off the side of the bed for someone else to deal with.

“Gross.” Adam said and Ronan laughed. He imagined Adam rolled his eyes but Ronan couldn’t open his eyes to check.

 

After Adam left, Ronan drifted quickly into a dream. He knew what he wanted. In his dream the forest was wet and dripping in the aftermath of a summer storm, everything smelled like life and earth and growing things. Orphan Girl was there, and she held something in her hands. She peered at it as if confused. Ronan approached carefully so as not to startle her. But she must have known he was there because when he got within arm’s reach, she offered him her gift.

It was a small white tub, unmarked but heavy with the lotion it carried. With a thought Ronan had a pen in his hand. In his messy scrawl he wrote _Hands_ but because it was a dream the pen spelled out _Manibus_. He smiled crookedly at the Orphan Girl and woke up with hands full.

 

Ronan realized most people didn’t know Latin so before leaving, he dug a pen out of the bedside drawer beside the bible and wrote underneath the dream label: _for your hands_.

He left it in his car, assured that this at least he would not forget. The next week Ronan drove Adam back to his neighborhood afterward and idled by the curb. Adam was looking out at the icy sidewalk and seemed not keen to step out onto it.

 

“I’ve got something for you.” Ronan said. Adam raised both eyebrows. Ronan dug under the seat and produced the lotion. Adam looked at it but didn’t take it. His face was wary. Ronan rolled his eyes as viciously as he could. “It’s a fucking tip. You take tips don’t you?”

Adam watched him, then took the tub as if it might bite, turning it over carefully. Ronan saw him read the description on the bottom and his face… twitched. That was the only way to describe it.

 

“Okay.” he said, finally, stuffing the gift into his jacket pocket. He took the lotion, got out, and walked briskly away while Ronan watched the hunched bounce of his shoulders.

He hadn’t thanked Ronan. Ronan hadn’t wanted him to.


	5. I just wanna sit around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whatever, I’m hungry.” he said, even though he and Gansey had had leftover Indian before Ronan left. “I’ll pay for the night” – he really didn’t want Adam back out on the street tonight – “but I’m going to get something to eat first.” He said it as if it didn’t matter either way, projecting his complete lack of interest as loudly as he could. Adam still looked wary.

The next time Ronan saw Adam he looked like _shit_. Not warmed up shit , not even fresh shit. He looked like stone cold, not-even-flies-will-touch-it shit. As soon as Ronan thought this, he knew he was going to mention it to Adam at some point. Maybe it would be his parting shot before he dropped Adam off at home. He was sure Adam would appreciate the compliment.

But first.

 

“Not this week then?” he said, a little put out but also surprised it had taken this long; Adam looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over on his best days. “I should give you my number so you didn’t have to walk all the way over here just to tell me you’re sick.” He rifled in his pocket to get his cell phone. It would be kind of nice to have a reliable way to contact Adam anyway, he thought.

 

“No.” Adam said sharply and it echoed in Ronan’s head. He was so stupid, of course, of course Adam didn’t want his fucking _number_. What next? Was he going to ask him to fucking go steady? Fuck. “I mean, I’m not sick.” Adam continued.

Ronan scrambled to catch up with the conversation. It took him a fraction of a second to register what Adam said and then he shot Adam his most patently unimpressed and disbelieving look.

“Okay, I am sick. But not that sick. I–”  A pause. “I  want to make you feel good.”

Ronan’s mind whirred. He searched for insincerity in Adam’s expression but if anything he looked a bit spooked, like he’d let slip something he hadn’t meant to. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Ronan frowned and Adam’s face rearranged itself into a polite mask. Fine. Two could play that tune. Ronan thought _I don’t give a single fuck_ , and then tried to match his face to the idea.

 

But the thing was, Adam really looked sick as shit. And the hollow of his cheeks, which usually made him look like some kind of ridiculous male model, now made him look haggard and hungry. Ronan wondered if something was going on, if maybe Adam had been out on the streets too much and that was how he’d gotten sick. If his pimp was withholding medicine, shit like that, Ronan would have no idea.

 

“Whatever, I’m hungry.” he said, even though he and Gansey had had leftover Indian before Ronan left. “I’ll pay for the night” – he really didn’t want Adam back out on the street tonight – “but I’m going to get something to eat first.” He said it as if it didn’t matter either way, projecting his complete lack of interest as loudly as he could. Adam still looked wary.

 

Whatever. Ronan stopped at the first late-night diner he saw. It looked like a hole in the wall but he didn’t really care about the décor so much as about the food. Ronan grabbed them a booth and Adam slid in opposite him.

 

“What can I get you boys?” the waitress asked.

“What’d you want?” Ronan asked Adam, because that was why they were here in the first place.

Adam hesitated, eyes darting around the room for a second and then said:

“Nothing.”

 

 _Fucking liar_ , Ronan accused with his eyes but Adam pretended not to see.

“Can I get a tomato soup and a grilled cheese?” Ronan asked. If Adam was too dumb or too proud to take charity Ronan would just pour the damn soup over his head and Ronan’s conscience could fuck off.

 

“Sure thing.” said the waitress and Adam smiled at her politely.

As they waited for the food, Ronan pretended to look at the ugly-ass art on the walls and watched Adam out of the corner of his eye. There were few things Ronan knew about Adam. But one thing Adam couldn’t or didn’t want to hide was his fucking pride. He took his money at the end of the night as if he was doing Ronan a favor. Except for the lotion, he didn’t take tips. He didn’t really like Ronan to drive him around and  he gave off the impression that really, he was above all this. It would have been annoying as shit on anyone else but Adam apparently knew what he was doing because Ronan just kept coming back for more.

 

Mostly, Ronan didn’t care about Adam’s pride. It didn’t interfere with what they did, and he didn’t seem to look down on Ronan, so it didn’t matter. But now it meant he wouldn’t take something that was right in front of his face. Literally. When the food was delivered Adam pretended he didn’t see it. Ronan rolled his eyes while Adam was trying to look interested in the drink menu.

Annoyed at this whole fucking farce Ronan made himself eat some of the soup. It tasted fine and everything but he mentally weighed each bite to see if it was enough to keep up the charade. Finally he called it quits.

 

“Alright.” he said and dropped some cash on the table. _I don’t care, I don’t care, you’re a proud idiot,_ Ronan thought loudly, hoping Adam could fucking hear him.

“What?” Adam said, looking appalled. “You haven’t finished.” _Bait_ , he thought.

“Whatever. Wasn’t that hungry.” _Hook_.

Adam looked vaguely pissed off.

“So you’re just going to… leave it?” _Line_.

 

Ronan sighed theatrically to stop himself from smiling.

“Unless you want it.” he said, cool as could be. Adam just watched him, weighing his stomach against his pride no doubt. Ronan tried staring him down and when that didn’t work he rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone. He didn’t actually like any of the dumb games Gansey had downloaded onto his phone but it helped the sheen of disinterest. “Whatever man, eat it if you want.” There was another long moment, and then Adam reached out and pulled the food toward him. Ronan bit back a smile. _Sinker_ , he thought.

 

As Adam ate, he thought about how weird that whole metaphor was. It had to do with fishing, he knew that much. He could even mostly follow the logic until it got to the sinker part. What the fuck was a sinker? Whatever.

 

He wanted something nicer than their usual this time. No drafts, no questionable, too-thin sheets. He took them to the  nicest hotel nearby and got a room on the top floor. In the quiet elevator going up Adam’s sniffling sounded incredibly loud. When they got to the room, Adam made a move to kneel but Ronan stopped him. Trying to blow someone without being able to breathe through your nose sounded like a _bad_ idea.

 

Ronan kissed Adam’s throat nudging his head back so Ronan could put barely there bites along his neck. He wondered if Adam, like Gansey could go days at a time without shaving, the lucky bastards. Without really thinking about it, his hands found their way into Adam’s hair as Ronan kissed the hinge of his jaw. Adam’s hands, were cold against his stomach but he liked the gentle movement of his fingertips.

 

“I love your hands.” he breathed into Adam’s ear.

“What?” Adam said, pulling back.

Ronan pulled back too and crossed his arms. Shit, 'love'? He shouldn’t have said that. It must have sounded corny and gross.

“What?” Ronan said, eternally ready for an argument. But Adam didn’t really look like he wanted to fight. He looked uncomfortable.

 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I didn’t hear you. I, uh, can’t hear out of that ear.”

“Oh,” Ronan said, uncrossing his arms but still feeling somewhat attacked. He didn’t want to repeat what he’d said, wanted to pretend the words had never been spoken. But Adam’s inquiring face seemed to demand a response. “I just…” Fuck, he was a fucking idiot. “I said I liked your hands.”

 

Adam looked nonplussed, as if Ronan had spoken Latin instead of English. Was it so strange to like something about Adam? Ronan thought defensively. Guys could complement each other without it being weird, right? Shit.

 

“Oh!” Adam said, as if something had clicked into place. “You want a handjob?”

That wasn’t actually what he’d been thinking but now that Adam had suggested it, it was a perfect way out of an awkward situation. “Yeah.” he said quickly, shrugging as if this had been his obvious intention from the start.

“Sure, we can start with that.” Adam said agreeably.

He peeled Ronan out of his clothes, then Ronan settled on the bed to watch him undress. There was something endearing and boyish about the jut of his shoulder blades and the quick awkward slide of his clothes as they were discarded. He didn’t make a show of it but somehow it was still captivating.

 

Adam settled over him in bed and delicately traced the contours of his chest until his toes curled and his nipples hardened into peaks. Ronan closed his eyes and leaned his head back, embarrassed by his reaction but unable to stop the pleased tingle at the feeling of Adam’s smooth lean hands.

It didn’t take long for Ronan to harden under Adam’s ministrations. It felt good, grip firm and speed just right. But it didn’t feel quite the same as when he touched himself; there was something missing. His hands fisted in the sheets uselessly and his hips moved restlessly trying to get more or less or _something_. Finally when the frustration had almost overwhelmed the pleasure in the back of his mind, Adam seemed to catch on.

 

His grip tightened just as his other arm came down to pin Ronan’s hips to the bed. There was a burst of adrenaline at the restraint and Ronan groaned, trying to move his hips. But Adam just pushed down harder and Ronan’s dick jumped, precome sliding down to meet Adam’s strokes as they went faster and faster.

“Fuck.” Ronan said, murmured voice still loud over their combined breaths, “You motherfucker.” He twisted just to feel the bruising force of Adam’s arm holding him down. It hurt.

It _hurt_.

It was incredible.

 

“Adam, Adam, goddamn, fuckin– sh– shit Adam.” He was not as eloquent as he would have liked but his mouth was moving without help from his brain, which was too busy thinking about the almost-too-tight grip of Adam’s hand.

 

Adam moved in a quick, rough rhythm that set Ronan to groaning obscenities between clenched teeth. Adam flicked his thumb over the head of Ronan’s cock and a little moan punched out of him. He rocked upwards again, testing the boundaries of his movement and relishing the mingled pain and pressure.

 

It didn’t take long for him to come with a final, emphatic, “Fuck.” He rode the aftershocks as Adam continued to pump slowly, until the sensation was too much. “Fuck off.” Ronan said, pushing Adam’s hand away. He couldn’t see Adam’s expression, eyes closed to hide tears, but he assumed it was smug. The bed creaked and shifted as Adam got up and went to the bathroom.

 

While he was gone, Ronan wiped at his eyes, accustomed but still annoyed by his reaction. He was still angrily rubbing his palms over his eyes when Adam came back. Adam wiped down his stomach with a warm washcloth and then went back to drop it in the bathroom.

 

“Turn over,” he said when he returned. Ronan had something confrontational on the tip of his tongue, as was his nature, but it seemed too much effort so he just turned over. Adam perched over him and Ronan wondered what the hell Adam was playing at when he heard the _snick_ of a bottle opening.

Ronan tried to relax as Adam’s hands soothed their way down his back. But he was aware of how vulnerable he was, how difficult it would be to throw Adam off from this angle, how much it would hurt if the barely there brushes turned into fingernails scraping down his spine. The potential for pain surged through him, made him sick and excited at the same time, even while a large part of himself knew that Adam was not a threat to him. Adam wouldn’t hurt him, but still Ronan thrilled with the thought that he _could_.

But as Adam’s movements became less tentative and he began to dig into the knotted muscles of Ronan back, almost against his will, Ronan felt himself relax. The adrenaline faded until all that was left was the gentle sound of blood rushing in his ears like a distant sea. As the tension drained out of him, he could feel sleep curling around the edges of his thoughts, making them  fuzzy and his face warm. He knew this was dangerous. For him, sleep was always a risk. But his mind had been a less frightful place recently, and Ronan couldn’t imagine that falling asleep to the gentle feeling of Adam’s hands could possibly end in anything but the best sleep he’d ever had.

 

He thought, as he drifted off, that this might have been what trust looked like.

* * *

 In the dream Ronan was still lying on his stomach, but instead of sheets his nose was buried in soft green moss. He opened his eyes lazily and found Adam’s face only a few inches from his own. But in the odd way of dreams, his eyes were sun-through-the-leaves green instead of their usual blue. Ronan was standing without remembering how he got up, but the front half of the BMW was growing out of a fallen tree behind them and he walked over the examine it. The metal twisted and bent where it met the tree, eventually blending into the soft, rotting bark of the trunk. Well, it wouldn’t go very fast like that, Ronan thought, but he got into the driver’s seat anyway. He didn’t have his keys and he knew if he thought about them he could summon them to him in an instant, but there was no point. So instead he turned to the passenger seat where Adam sat. Ronan met his eyes which were now the same slate gray as the car’s exterior. He looked comfortable here, part of the forest, part of the car, part of the strange place where man-made met home-grown. Adam broke eye contact and leaned forward, opening the glove compartment. Inside was a crow feather, a flashlight, and a pink switchblade. Adam removed the last of these and flicked it open easily as breathing.

 

“Give me your hand.” Adam said and Ronan did so without question, wanting to follow the flow of the dream. Adam gently traced the lines of his palm with the tip of the blade. Slowly the flat of the blade turned from whispering to scraping along the skin. Ronan knew that sooner or later it would break skin but he didn’t move away. Before that happened Adam seemed to grow tired of the game and placed the handle in Ronan’s hand, curling his fingers so they were holding hands with the cold steel between their palms.

 

Ronan grasped the switchblade’s handle and _pulled_.

* * *

 The shower was running when he awoke, which was good because he didn’t know how he would have explained the knife that had no doubt appeared in his hand as he snapped awake. He sat up to examine his dream object. Its handle was a rather lurid pink but it snapped open and shut smoothly and the edge felt sharp. He tested it on the corner of the sheet.

It wasn’t long before the shower shut off and Adam came back, a towel around his hips and another for drying his hair. Something heated and happy uncurled at the relaxed slope of Adam’s shoulders.

 

“Those are illegal in D.C. you know.” Adam said, nodding to the knife.

“So’s prostitution.” Ronan said with a smile. And then, “Do you want it?” In the dream it had been Adam’s knife, that much was clear. And besides, someone who looked like Adam and did his job could use a little extra protection.

 

Adam nodded and Ronan gave him the knife. Adam stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket where it lay discarded on the floor and then returned to bed. He seemed better for the meal and the shower, although he still looked tired.

 

They fucked twice, both times with Ronan doing most of the work. He didn’t mind. He _did_ mind not being able to kiss Adam, because that was one of the best parts. But as much as he wanted Adam’s mouth, he didn’t really want to catch whatever Adam had. So he refrained.

 

After a final handjob in the shower, Adam looked about ready to pass out. Ronan was still mostly awake after his little nap but he let Adam sleep while he watched the muted hotel TV. In the quiet of the hotel room, sweaty and tired but more settled and peaceful than he’d felt in ages, Ronan felt an idea begin to form.


	6. the black banners raised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan was idling, engine running, heater on full blast when someone knocked at the window. It could only be Adam so Ronan popped open the doors and looked over. The person who got in was definitely Adam but he had a purpling bruise over his left cheekbone and another smaller bruise fading into his hair. Ronan’s blood was boiling before Adam had even fully sat down.
> 
> “One of your clients do that?” Ronan bit out, whip sharp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opening scene of this chapter was inspired by @auroralynches on tumblr. The post is here (http://auroralynches.tumblr.com/post/129327382484/i-said-i-would-do-a-post-about-the-gangseys) about gangsey Christmas traditions.

Gansey only ever went to church on the holidays. It was a whole Gansey family tradition. And since Matthew had moved away, Ronan couldn’t make himself go to midnight mass alone, so he always went with Gansey and his family to their Christmas Eve service.

Ronan would sit at the end of the pew with Gansey next to him, intermittently calling him a Protestant heathen in an attempt to make him laugh, or at least make Helen shoot Ronan an unimpressed look.

This time neither of them were tired after the service so they so they made the journey through the warehouse district to the nearest park with Ronan complaining about the cold the entire time. It was worth it for the swings. Ronan would admit over his own dead body how much he enjoyed a good swing set. And the darkness, broken only by the distant streetlights and the even more distant light of the stars, made him feel closer to a higher power than two hours listening to Gansey’s minister.

They walked home and made hot chocolate in time to watch the sun rise from the roof. That was about the point the night caught up with them and they stumbled back down to the apartment, both falling into Gansey’s bed shivering until they fell asleep.

Ronan woke up around noon, and skyped Matthew quietly for a few hours while Gansey slept some more. When they were finally both awake they ordered food from a Chinese place and opened presents over their takeout containers.

It was easy and Ronan felt a quiet sort of peace he wasn’t used to. But there was something disturbing about the two of them, about how much he relied on Gansey, how utterly miserable Ronan would be without him. He wondered who Adam had. What Adam was doing for Christmas. He thought about the cold air the night before and how miserable it would have been if there was no safe place to return to.

Not his problem, he reminded himself. Adam was not  _ his  _ in any sense of the word, and thus not his to keep watch over.

* * *

Ronan was idling, engine running, heater on full blast when someone knocked at the window. It could only be Adam so Ronan popped open the doors and looked over. The person who got in was definitely Adam but he had a purpling bruise over his left cheekbone and another smaller bruise fading into his hair. Ronan’s blood was boiling before Adam had even fully sat down.

 

“One of your clients do that?” Ronan bit out, whip sharp.

 

“No.” Adam said, after rolling his eyes. Shit, maybe it was his pimp who did it. Maybe Adam was in serious trouble, maybe– “Seriously. It was just some dudes who tried to rob me because they thought I looked richer than I am.” And it even sounded true. But maybe Adam was just a good liar.

 

“Did you fight back?” Ronan said. If it was his pimp, he wouldn’t have been able to fight.

“I used my knife. Eventually.”

 

Ronan wanted to beat someone until they bled. Actually, even better, he wanted to stand and watch while Adam beat someone to a bloody pulp. ‘Someone’ being more specifically whoever did that to his fucking face. Finally pulling himself together enough to drive, Ronan pulled out into traffic.

 

He didn’t stop at the nearest motel.

“Where are we going?” Adam asked as they passed another motel. Ronan kept to the busier streets and watched out for bright lights and big windows.

 

“A gym.”

“Why?” Adam asked as if a perfectly good reason wasn’t fucking written all over Adam’s face.

“Because,” – _ I want you safe– _ “I’m going to teach you to fight.”

“No, Ronan.” Adam said emphatically.

“Yes, Ronan.” he replied, a little snottily.

 

“You can pay me to do a lot, but you can’t pay me to let you push me around.” Adam bit out and Ronan stiffened. What the fuck was his problem? Ronan just wanted to  _ help _ . Then distantly he realized that might be the problem: Adam didn’t want his help.

 

Well that was tough shit because he was going to get it. But Ronan could make concessions to his stupid fucking pride.“I’m doing you a favor, that part’s free.” Ronan said, because Adam’s comment had stung and he wanted it clear that there was no money involved in this part. “You can blow me after.” Not that it mattered.

“Fine.” Adam said challengingly. Ronan, just barely, didn’t rise to the bait. Maybe he was growing as a person. Gansey would be proud.

* * *

They found a gym that was open late and Ronan rummaged around in the trunk until he found the tape he’d had put there last time he had dragged Gansey to the gym. Ronan reassured himself that no matter how hard it was to teach Adam, he couldn’t be a worse fighter than Gansey. He didn’t have proper clothes because this wasn’t really where he’d expected the night to end up, but next time he’d bring workout clothes for both of them.

The first few times Adam hit the punching bag, he was hesitant and like Gansey, he curled his thumb into his fist.

 

“For fuck’s sake,” how did people learn this shit? “You’re going to break your thumb like that.”

He demonstrated the right stance, the follow through, the best way to hurt your opponent without hurting yourself in the process. Adam copied. But his awkwardly long, lean limbs were not designed for combat in the same way Ronan’s larger frame was. But it was a bit like teaching Matthew, which Ronan had done a few years back before Matthew started school in California. Adam had the same tendency to hit with his fist instead of his body.

 

The gym slowly emptied around them until they were the last ones there and the owner was giving them disgruntled looks. Ronan waved cheerily at him and then finally pulled Adam back from the bag. Slowly he undid the wrappings on Adam’s hands. His knuckles were red and looked sore, Ronan would have to show him how to hit with just the first two knuckles next time, but the skin wasn’t broken anywhere.

 

In the locker room they stripped out of their sweaty clothes and got into the showers. They washed quickly and perfunctorily. Ronan relished the tug of well-used muscles and admired the lines of Adam’s body. Just when he was about to switch off the water, Adam carefully dropped to his knees. Ronan thought blowing someone in the shower sounded like a good way to inhale water but Adam was a professional, Ronan supposed he knew how to do this shit.

 

It was different, running his hands through wet hair, darker than usual against his hands. He pushed Adam’s hair back off his forehead and surveyed the bruise there as Adam sucked Ronan into his mouth. His blood still boiled looking at Adam’s injured face so he closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of Adam’s tongue dancing along the underside of his cock.

 

With his eyes closed and the hum of the lights drowned out by the pounding of the water, it was easy to imagine that he was somewhere else. Their shower at the apartment was probably big enough for this. Ronan imagined the familiar smell of Gansey’s cologne and Ronan’s shaving cream. He thought about Adam against the blue-grey tiles, using Ronan’s shampoo, drying himself with their nice towels instead of the scratchy shit they had at hotels. Something warm and comforted swelled in Ronan’s breast as Adam bobbed quickly and the hot water began to cool.

 

He came with a shudder imagining Adam spread out on his bed at home, clean and warm and soft with sleep. He’d been thinking about that a lot lately, ever since Adam had gotten sick and they’d spent the whole night together.

 

They changed back into their clothes which was gross but necessary and walked out to the car. Adam moved like he was tired and sore which sucked but sucked less than getting beat up again. He drove Adam home.

 

“Again next week.” Ronan said, “Come earlier in the evening. Wear something you can sweat in.”

 

Ronan brought two sets of gym clothes the next week just in case, which was good because Adam was wearing ratty jeans and a Coca-cola shirt under his jacket. Ronan rolled his eyes. As he’d suspected, Adam had probably not set foot inside a gym since he finished his last high school P.E. class. They went to a different gym; Ronan didn’t like the idea of being a regular anywhere.

 

Adam improved steadily. At first he copied Ronan like he was reciting a passage from a very old book, stilted and uneasy, but slowly his movements became smooth and unselfconscious. He still didn’t throw himself into each moment the way one needed to do in a real fight. But he seemed to understand the concepts. It took a few weeks but eventually Ronan knew he was going to have to see how Adam’s stood up to a real opponent. They went over to the part of the gym set up for sparring and Ronan started taping his own hands.

 

“It’s different punching some _ one _ . You need to get used to it.” Ronan said and Adam looked out warily from his deep-set eyes. Ronan looked down, concentrated on finding that rage that always flowed beneath his skin. That, more than anything, was what made him a good fighter. His father’s lessons had given him the skills and the muscle memory but when you had to actually hurt someone, you had to want to.

But the thing is, he didn’t want to hurt Adam. Not at all. So he pulled the anger to the surface but it just slid through his fingers like water. He gritted his teeth in frustration as he finished taping his hands. But there was nothing to be done. It wouldn’t prepare Adam for fighting against a real opponent but it was better than nothing.

 

Ronan fell into a fighting stance and saw Adam mirror him. The movement looked almost natural now, Ronan noted with approval.

 

Ronan nodded, making sure Adam was ready. He nodded in return. Ronan waited a half second for him to start but when he didn’t, Ronan made the first move. Slow and easy, gauging how much of their lessons had actually gone in, Ronan swung.

 

Adam cowered, flinching away with his whole body before Ronan even made contact. Ronan pulled his punch without thinking about it, feeling sick. This was not a reaction Gansey or Matthew had ever had. This was the reaction of someone who knew the pain that was coming and just wanted to lessen the damage.

 

Struggling, Ronan kept his face blank. He was beyond rage and into cold, impossible shock, trying not to believe what was clearly the case. 

Adam had been hit before, repeatedly.

 

“We’re done.” Ronan said, because he wanted to go throw up alone and try to forget the hollow look in Adam’s eyes–

“What? No.” Adam said sharply. “I just need more practice. But I can take a hit.”

Ronan barely suppressed a flinch. He thought about Adam telling him that he couldn’t pay to push Adam around. He wondered if this was a new resolution. He wondered who had taught Adam to flinch like that.

 

“Come on. I can take it.” Adam said, voice rising, belligerent. “Or are you scared I’m going to hit back.” That was the last thing Ronan was worried about. “Come on.” he said again, and Ronan could see that he was angry now. Good. Maybe if he was angry he’d actually try to fight.

“Fine.” Ronan said, because Adam needed to learn how to fight even if this was the last thing in the world Ronan wanted to do. Before Ronan had even brought his hands up to protect his face Adam was swinging and Ronan had to duck hastily.

 

Adam fought like a caged animal, fast and frantic. He didn’t have the practice that Ronan did, didn’t automatically block and left his sides wide open again and again. But when Ronan hit at the exposed spot he shifted quickly and avoided most of the force. Adam was lighter on his feet than Ronan, which was good. And he finally threw a punch like he meant it. The first time Ronan caught Adam’s fist with his face he felt a surge of pride through the pain.

 

Adam fought dirty and vicious and he threw Ronan back to the mat once. Ronan scrambled up, not really sure if he’d get a kick to the ribs if he was too slow. Just playing the defensive game wasn’t really helpful because most people Adam would be fighting would be actively trying to do damage so Ronan hit back as much as he could. His more experienced movements saved him from a few good blows but as Adam kept hitting, there was something almost like fear in the pit of Ronan’s stomach.

 

Suddenly, as quickly as he’d started, Adam stopped. Ronan let his hands fall but stayed on his toes in case it was a trick. Fighting smart, that would be Adam’s best asset. But after a second and a glance at Adam’s face he saw that they were really done.

 

Ronan quickly took stock. His lip hurt and when he reached up to feel it there was a smear of blood left on his finger. He grimaced. Gansey would worry about that.

 

“Good.” he said, heart still pounding. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adam look down at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. Adam, unlike Ronan, was not used to using his anger to his advantage.

 

They showered and went to a hotel room to fuck. Ronan lay back and imagined that he could feel his bruises blooming.

 

Gansey knew by now not to wait up on Fridays but the next morning he was standing over Ronan’s bed when he woke up.

 

“What happened?” His voice was caught between judgmental and concerned.

  
“I met someone who takes instruction better than you do.” Ronan said, and left it at that. Gansey did not look convinced and Ronan knew this lie by omission couldn’t last forever.


	7. if you want it to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan knew what it felt like when Adam punched him. So he couldn’t say exactly that this felt like being punched. He could say he would have preferred the physical blow.
> 
> There was too much in his chest, and too little. He felt it transmute into anger, at Adam’s stupidity, at his pride, at his complete misunderstanding of the situation. His face twisted into a sneer without thinking about it and something cruel was halfway to his lips before he stopped himself.

Ronan didn’t consider himself a very perceptive person. Ask him what a barista’s name tag said or Helen’s eye color and he didn’t know and furthermore didn’t care. Sure, he could read Gansey’s expression from thirty feet with a blindfold on, but that was a special exception not indicative of deeper analytic ability. For the most part Ronan didn’t read people because he didn’t a) know how or b) give a shit.

 

Adam, at some point, had bypassed both point a and point b but Ronan didn’t even notice it until he glanced up and saw Adam’s expression as he approached the car. He looked like he wanted to run, not from Ronan, but from the world at large. As he opened the door and got in Ronan didn’t say anything. Adam didn’t want to run from Ronan, but he might if he was pushed.

When they were most of the way to the hotel Ronan finally got out a casual “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Adam said sharply. That wasn’t going to cut it.

 

“Yeah, right.” Ronan said, looking over for a second to see Adam looking almost confused by the concern. “Your face dude.” He didn’t know how to explain it any clearer than that.

“It’s nothing.” But he sounded defeated rather than defensive this time. Ronan was trying to phrase his next inquiry when Adam continued. “Just… school fees.”

 

The awkward pause made it clear that that was not what Adam had wanted to say. “School fees” could be code for anything. Ronan wondered if it had to do with Adam’s job, with his living situation, with his pimp. Maybe he needed money to get away. Ronan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly.

“How much?” Ronan asked, wondering if this meant Adam would leave the city, move somewhere else with the money Ronan gave him. Adam cocked his head, considering.

“Fifteen-hundred.” Adam said warily.

 

“Hmm, I can pay that.” Ronan was relieved it wasn’t more. He could probably withdraw that much from the bank in one transaction although he didn’t really know. “Let me stop by the bank.”

 

“In return for what?” Adam asked.

“For nothing.” Ronan said even though he wanted to say, ‘in return for you not disappearing’. “’Cause you need it.”

 

“No.” Adam snapped. Ronan shot him a look. No, he didn’t need it after all? “You don’t own me. I’m not your toy. Or your charity case. I’m not taking money from you.”

Ronan knew what it felt like when Adam punched him. So he couldn’t say exactly that this felt like being punched. He could say he would have preferred the physical blow.

 

There was too much in his chest, and too little. He felt it transmute into anger, at Adam’s stupidity, at his pride, at his complete misunderstanding of the situation. His face twisted into a sneer without thinking about it and something cruel was halfway to his lips before he stopped himself.

 

A thousand fights with Gansey had taught him that he always regretted what he said when he was angry, usually it didn’t stop him because he knew Gansey would forgive him his trespasses but this time something important was at stake.

He pulled into the nearest bank parking lot.

 

“Ronan-”

Ronan ignored Adam and slammed the door behind him.

Ronan generally didn’t have much to do with banks. Gansey managed all his finances and investments and gave him cash at the beginning of every month, and said he took some out of Ronan’s account for rent although Ronan wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t been. He had credit cards he didn’t use and a debit card he didn’t even know the pin to. But he figured banks had to be idiot proof if everyone goes around using them.

 

“I’d like to take $1500 out of my account. Please.” he added at the last moment. The woman smiled politely.

“Of course. What’s your account number?”

“Umm, wait a sec.” Ronan pulled out his cell phone and dialed Gansey’s number.

“Hello?” Gansey sounded confused and vaguely worried. It was extremely rare that Ronan actually used his cell phone.

“What’s my account number?” The woman at the counter was now giving him a look which made Ronan bare his teeth in a sharp smile.

“Why?” Gansey asked, less worried and more wary.

“Because I’m trying to get some money out of it?” There was an unspoken ‘duh’.

“Oh.” As if this was a novel concept. Then he listed off the number. Of course he knew it off by heart, Ronan thought, rolling his eyes as he repeated the number to the woman. She typed it into her computer and looked at the screen for minute. Ronan was about to hang up on Gansey when she spoke.

“Ah, it appears you will need authorization from the other account holder for a withdrawal.”

Ronan lifted the phone back to his ear.

“I need your permission.” Ronan said.

“Yeah.” Gansey said apologetically.

“So, do I have it?” he asked flatly.

“Ronan…”

“It’s my money Gansey.”

 

“It is.” he said but Ronan knew it couldn’t be that simple. “But, there’s a reason they’re all joint accounts.” He didn’t have to remind Ronan of all the stupid things he’d done when he’d had unlimited access to his own money.

 

“It’s not for me.” he said, trying to ignore the woman at the desk.

“Who’s it for then? As much as I would congratulate you if you started giving large sums of money to homeless people, somehow I doubt that’s what this is.” It was clearly meant to be a joke but Ronan didn’t know what Adam’s housing situation and sincerely hoped he wasn’t homeless.

 

“Something like that.” he said. He practically heard Gansey sit up, surprised. “Look, Gansey, he needs it.” And some of his desperation, his worry must have leaked through because there was just silence on the other end.

 

“Okay, give the phone to the bank teller.” Gansey said and Ronan sighed, his version of thank you.

 

Gansey talked through the hoops the bank teller had for them. And to Ronan’s relief he didn’t even hesitate when he found out how much Ronan was trying to get out.

When he had the money in a stiff envelope of fifties, the woman handed the phone back.

Talking to Gansey made him think about the apartment, about not knowing where Adam slept at night, about how much he wanted to see Adam somewhere other than a shitty hotel.

He walked out of the bank but didn’t get in the car yet.

“Gansey-”

“Mmm?”

“Can you… go somewhere else for the weekend?”

“Pardon?”

 

Ronan shrugged even though Gansey couldn’t see him.

“I kind of need you out of the apartment this weekend. Just, go stay with Malory.”

“Ronan… seriously what’s this ab-”

“I’ll explain when you get back.” Ronan said quickly and then regretted it a second later. Now he had to do it.

“Okay.” Ronan sagged in relief. “I’ll be gone in fifteen minutes.” Gansey said and Ronan nodded.

“Thanks.” he said and hung up.

Finally he got in the car, no longer angry and now with substantially more of a plan than he’d had when he got out.

“I’m not taking your money, Ronan.” Adam said, still sounding pissed.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Ronan asked because that was kind of pivotal to the plan. Adam paused.

“N-nothing.”

“Good.” Ronan said and pulled tight around him the idea that literally nothing fucking mattered. Existentialism as protection. “Then, we’re going to go to my place. And I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand. And then you’re going to fuck me probably. Then we’re going to sleep. Rise, rinse, repeat, all weekend. And by Monday, you will have earned this.” He handed over the envelope. And then he looked at Adam and what a fucking joke, of course it mattered. It mattered far too much.

 

There was a long pause where Ronan tried to un-know what he’d just realized. But then Adam nodded and it was okay after all.

Ronan started the car and headed in the direction of the apartment.

It took about 35 minutes to get there from Adam’s neighborhood. It felt strange once they got to familiar streets. How many times had Ronan driven this route after a night with Adam, thoughts lingering with him? And now Adam was with him.

 

Everything felt different with an observer. He wondered if Adam thought it was strange when they turned towards the warehouses. When they got there and went into the building he wondered if the freight elevator looked chic and cool as Gansey insisted it did or dangerous and rickety as Ronan always teased him it was. And when they actually got up to the apartment he was abruptly aware of how very  _ lived in _ it looked, how much you could tell about a person by looking at the space they inhabit.

“My room.” Ronan said, nodding towards the loft and pushing away the sudden unease.

Adam walked a bit further into the main room, gaze sweeping over everything, assessing. He paused on Gansey’s favorite seat on the couch which was very visibly just-vacated.

“I kind of kicked out my roommate.” Ronan said.

“Where’s he going to go?”

“Eh, he’ll go spend the weekend with a colleague in Wales.”

Ronan forced himself to lead Adam up to the loft. Adam had his money, he could have left whenever he wanted, the fact that he didn’t was comforting and Ronan relaxed a little.

“Do you want a beer?” Ronan asked although as soon as he said it he realized what a stupid idea it was. Adding alcohol to this situation would be exactly the wrong move. But Adam nixed the idea with a shake of his head and Ronan shrugged in relief, taking off his jacket.

Adam started undressing and Ronan hadn’t really meant it that way but he followed suit.

 

This, at least, was familiar. The curve of Adam’s spine as he tugged off his pants, the Virginia tan against white sheets. But this time it was Ronan’s sheets, Ronan’s bed, Ronan’s apartment warmer and softer around the edges, inviting them both to relax into it.

 

They fucked and it was exactly how he’d imagined: hearing Adam’s breathy sounds bouncing off the high ceilings, feeling the thrill of being with Adam mix with the soothing nature of the apartment. He felt everything narrow down to the space between their bodies, to Adam’s hard cock, to the gentle, so gentle, slide of his teeth along Adam’s collarbone. He was hyper aware of Adam’s every movement, barely even noticing his own pleasure building and cresting.

He came too soon. Adam was still hard. He rolled off to wipe his eyes on the pillow and made a little ‘give me a sec’ sound into the fabric.

 

But when he turned back Adam looked distracted and had made no move to touch himself so Ronan didn’t either. He just got a washcloth and cleaned them up. Then he settled back on the bed, not crowding Adam the way he wanted to. After a second Adam rolled onto his side.

One hand cupped the side of his head, nimble fingers sinking into mussed hair, body a lithe line of smooth skin. Ronan tried not to stare too intently, tried to pretend disinterest but he didn’t know if it worked. Adam – from his cool, dark eyes to his awkwardly large kneecaps and every sweeping line and gentle curve in between – was beautiful. Ronan could have studied him for hours but there was a tense crease around his eyes than Ronan wanted to ease first.

 

“Can I help you?” he asked purposely off-hand. Adam’s face, Ronan knew, always tended towards a focused scowl, a thoughtful frown. He always looked calculating. So there was nothing truly different about Adam’s face as he thought through the moment. But to Ronan there was.

 

Adam reached out a steady hand and touched Ronan’s chest with gentle fingertips. Ronan’s eyes were drawn to the line they traced as they slid down his chest to his bellybutton and then back up again.

“Is there something… you want? That we haven’t done?”

“Like what?” Ronan asked, wondering if Adam was angling for something and eager to know what he wanted.

 

“Anything.” Adam said, leaving the choice up to him. And there were a thousand things, a thousand dreams of Adam and the things they could do together. How could he even begin to name them without giving away every thought he’d had lying awake late at night wishing for the weekdays to pass more quickly. Then he remembered the dream thing in his drawer. When he’d created it asking had seemed so simple, maybe it could still be.

 

“Well, since we’re here… there is one thing.”

He rooted around in the drawer for a moment before finding the toy. He held it out for Adam to take but he just looked for a second, before reaching forward to feel the warm metallic surface.

“Where’d you get this?” Adam asked and Ronan almost laughed.

 

“Custom made.” he said. Adam looked somewhat bemused but the strained look had faded and he seemed open to the possibility. Ronan grabbed the lube and spread a generous amount over the toy. Adam was already moving, settling on his back and spreading his legs. Ronan kneeled between them heart pounding in anticipation.

 

The toy slid in easily and Adam’s breath stuttered for a second, caught in his lungs. Ronan pushed it deeper until the base flared under his fingertips. Adam moved a bit, biting his lip and face a mask of concentration as he adjusted to the feeling. Ronan could tell, just by looking at him, that he was thinking too much.

 

With a mental nudge the toy began to vibrate. Just a low buzz at first, giving Adam a taste, which he seemed to enjoy if the gasp was anything to go by. Ronan upped the intensity just to see Adam’s face slacken in pleasure. He made small, smooth strokes with the toy and eventually Adam’s eyes fell shut, expression positively rapturous.

Ronan couldn’t help himself. He laughed just a little, pleased.

“Good?” he asked.

 

Adam seemed to struggle to open his eyes before giving Ronan an unamused look.

“Have you  _ tried _ this?” Adam said, as if Ronan was the one who’d taken leave of his senses.

“No,” he said, deadpan, “I use it as a paperweight.”

 

That made Adam laugh just a little and Ronan smiled in triumph before pushing the toy into another gear with a thought. Adam’s laugh turned into a groan. Ronan kept up the steady rhythm, loving the undone roll of Adam’s hips. He knew what this felt like from the other side, how completely overwhelming perfect it felt to have the toy alive and kicking inside him.

Adam started to whine and Ronan could barely breathe with how much he wanted to taste every inch of Adam’s rosy, sweating skin.

“That’s it. Come on.” Ronan said, not even aware of the words as they came out of his mouth. “Come for me.”

And he did, cock bobbing and come striping his chest, and in his voice Ronan’s name sounded like a prayer.

 

Ronan thought he might die if he didn’t kiss Adam right this second, so he did, deep and possessive and joyous. Ronan pulled away and felt his own mouth moving but had no idea what he said, he was too busy watching the haze slowly clear from Adam’s eyes.

So he saw the moment the toy, still buzzing, began to hurt. Without a conscious thought he dropped the intensity down again until it was barely moving. But he didn’t stop it, not yet.

 

“Think you can get hard again?” Ronan asked. He’d tried this before on himself, pushing past discomfort back into pleasure and finding the end result worth the wait. Adam looked up past Ronan’s shoulders, thinking, before nodding. And Ronan knew he wouldn’t regret it.

He pulled the toy halfway out so that it couldn’t touch Adam’s prostate and let Adam cool down. 

 

Adam shivered and shifted at the sensation, Ronan knew at this point it would almost feel like too much. But after a few minutes Adam nodded and Ronan pushed the toy a little deeper.

Adam cried out, and it wasn’t in pleasure. Ronan stopped immediately and the toy cut out.

“Hey, hey?” Ronan ducked down, trying to get some kind of response from Adam. His eyes focused and now that the toy was off there didn’t seem to be any pain in his expression. “You’re fine.” Ronan said, more a question than anything else.

Carefully Ronan slid the toy out of Adam’s body, Adam let out a huge sigh of relief. Ronan felt like a fucking asshole.

“I’m fine.” Adam said, almost as if he knew what Ronan was thinking. Clearly, he didn’t though, because the next this he said was, “Sorry.”

“No,” no, no, no, “You’re good.” Ronan wanted to punch something. Instead he just started cleaning the toy with the washcloth from earlier. Just because he liked something didn’t mean Adam would. He was so stupid.

 

He sat looking at the toy until he heard Adam’s breathing slow in sleep. Then he went to boil some water and took a bit of pleasure in dropping the toy into the bubbling pot. He turned off the stove and joined Adam back in bed, careful not to wake him.

 

But he couldn’t get to sleep. He sat against the headboard and looked around. He hadn’t had a nightmare in months. He’d let the traps sag and hadn’t set them up again. And now, if he did bring a night horror back, he wouldn’t need to worry about it getting down the stairs to Gansey, instead Adam would be right in the line of fire, stuck between the night horror and its prey. What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he risk Adam’s life on the off chance that his clear streak would continue? How could he ask Adam to risk his life by being in this apartment without even knowing what he was in the apartment with? What Ronan was.

 

It was late and Ronan was tired but suddenly it seemed to clear. If he wanted Adam here, close to him, in danger, the very least he could do was be completely honest. This lie by omission had to end. Enough was enough.

 

He almost woke Adam right then, almost spilled the only secret he’d been sure he would keep forever. But looking at Adam, still except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, Ronan couldn’t really understand why he’d been frightened even a moment before. With Adam here there would never be a risk of a nightmare or a night horror. Because when Adam was here there was nothing to be afraid of, not an inch of Ronan that wanted to tear himself apart.

He stayed awake, watching Adam sleep or looking at the ceiling, until the sun rose and bathed the scene in chill winter light, just the hint of spring warmth creeping in. Then, finally, Ronan slept.

Adam rudely woke him not long after.

“Fuck, what  _ time _ is it?” Ronan whined.

“Nine.”

“Fuuuuck.” But Adam had gone to the effort of actually making food so Ronan ate it and it was pretty good. But he couldn’t keep his eyes open and as soon as he finished he fell back to sleep.

After what felt like about five minutes Adam woke him again, with a blowjob this time, which was a brilliant idea because there was literally no way for Ronan to be angry about being woken up like that.

 

Ronan stumbled to the phone and called a sandwich shop a few miles away that delivered their lunch. The apartment looked different somehow but he couldn’t pinpoint why. He’d forgotten about it by the time the food got there and woke him up the rest of the way.

Then there was a pleasant surprise all over again: Adam here, in the apartment, comfortable in just underwear and a pair of Ronan’s sweats which sat dangerously low on his hips and almost covered his toes. It was almost a shame to get him out of the clothes for a shower, but worth it for the feel of hot water beating against his forearms where they were wrapped around Adam’s waist.

 

As they washed lazily Ronan thought about all the possibilities this opportunity afforded him. Adam in the apartment was something he’d thought of often. There were so many things he wanted to do, so many things he hadn’t allowed himself to ask for because it had felt wrong and out-of-bounds in their usual hotel rooms. But now Adam had come here, had agreed to spend a whole weekend here. There was one thing in particular that Ronan had wanted for awhile.

He waited until they were out of the shower and back in bed to ask. He wasn’t sure if this was okay. He didn’t really know the etiquette for switching positions in sex. Was he supposed to wait for Adam to offer? Adam had asked yesterday if there was anything Ronan wanted to do, was that an ongoing invitation?

Fuck it. This was stupid. Either Adam was okay with it or he’d say he wasn’t. Ronan bluntly refused to feel nervous.

 

“Want to fuck me?” he asked, light, with a little waggle of his eyebrows to emphasize how big a deal it was not. Adam looked like he wanted to laugh.

“If you want.” Adam said, and Ronan’s insides relaxed. Adam grabbed for the lube but then paused. Maybe he was reconsidering.

“How do you feel about rimming?”

Ronan smiled, pleasantly surprised that Adam hadn’t changed his mind, the opposite really.

“Why Ah-dum, I do declare.” he teased, flippant in his relief. He turned over and spread his legs, up for anything that Adam suggested.

 

The first touch of Adam’s tongue was… strange. Ronan clenched and released his hands over and over again, trying to get used to the feeling. There was something so incredibly intimate about it, more so than anything else they’d done. He tried to relax, focus on the feeling of Adam’s hands on his ass, the warm wash of breath that made him shiver as Adam licked over and over at his asshole. It didn’t take long for ‘strange’ to become ‘good’ to become ‘very very good’ and he let out an unbidden moan as Adam pushed his tongue a little further inside.

The intrusion was smaller than a toy or even fingers but the wet heat of it sent sparks up his spine. 

 

At some point he couldn’t stand it, started swearing absentmindedly as Adam sucked at his rim. He wasn’t overly gentle, teeth occasionally scraping just a bit and Ronan liked it that way. He loved the rhythm of it, the way Adam’s tongue stretched him until he was loose enough to easily take a long slender finger. The second finger came just as easily and Ronan couldn’t control how his body moved, hips twitching and words dissolving into a ragged moan.

 

He was panting and sweating and already on the edge of coming when he remembered this was  _ not _ where he’d planned for this to go. If Adam didn’t change gear quickly Ronan wouldn’t even be able to fully appreciate the first time Adam fucked him.

“Fucking fuck me already.” he said, too worked up to care about how he sounded. Adam gave one last lick before pulling away and grabbing a condom. Ronan collected himself for the herculean task of getting onto his hands and knees.

“You ready?” Adam asked when Ronan stopped moving.

“Fuck you.” he panted, and Adam laughed at him.

 

But before he could properly formulate a complaint Adam lined himself up and slid in. Ronan was rendered momentarily speechless as Adam rested his head on Ronan’s back. Then he started swearing again, voice low but vehement.

 

“Adam, Adam, goddamnit, fucking fuck, just yeah, please, like, yeah, like that,” he said as Adam quickly fell into a brutal rhythm.

 

He’d kind of thought Adam fucking him wouldn’t be that different from fucking himself with the toy. But it turned out it was very fucking different. When he was alone there wasn’t the steady presence of Adam against his back, his own little grunts and gasps as he fucked Ronan. Adam’s presence caged Ronan in and he felt safe and overheated and so turned on he couldn’t think straight.

 

Then Adam kissed Ronan’s back and the last word on Ronan’s lips tripped and fell out of them. “F-f-fuck.” Too emphatic and revealing but Adam didn’t seem to notice. He just left a lazy wet line of kisses across Ronan’s shoulders, down his back and up again. It felt more intimate even than having Adam’s tongue up his ass: the feeling of gentle kisses while Adam was deep inside him. It was too much and Ronan had to bite back something like a sob. Everything narrowed to Adam’s mouth and when Ronan felt the first bare brush of teeth against his skin he groaned, loud and obvious.

 

“Do it.” he said, wanting Adam to let go, wanting every single thing Adam was willing to give.

And Adam gave it to him, biting down as he came, hips stuttering and moan muffled. It hurt. Of course it did. But Ronan had never felt anything so perfect in his life, like the pain of bruised knuckles but better.

 

Adam pulled out and without really thinking about it Ronan flipped over, hard and impatient and wound too tight. The presence of Adam half on top of him, body warm against his from ankle to shoulder, was grounding as was Adam’s hand joining Ronan’s on his cock. He sucked in a few breaths, back arching and bitten shoulder grinding into the mattress, and came.

 

He floated for a while in the darkness behind his eyes, hand still half-tangled with Adam’s and heart beating too fast. After a few minutes he became aware of the tears rolling silently down the sides of his face and although he could feel Adam’s face pressed into his collarbone, he didn’t want him to suddenly look up and notice. So he threw the free arm over his eyes and let them water as they would.

Their quiet breaths lulled him back into a light sleep.

* * *

 

The day got away from him somehow. They played video games and it was easy, natural, almost like being friends. He’d thought about it before, how if they had met differently there might have been a chance of them being friends.

 

They fucked and ate and slept and fucked some more and Ronan wanted it to never end.

 

That night he dreamed that he and Adam were sitting in a forest, watching a puppet show. Puppet Ronan danced a jig to a tune his father used to hum and Puppet Adam clapped before getting up to leave.

“Wait,” the Ronan Puppet said. “Stay with me.”

“I don’t belong here.” Adam’s Puppet replied and Ronan felt the Dream Adam tense beside him.

“I don’t belong here either.” Ronan said, desperate for Adam to stay, “Stay with me.”

 

When he woke he felt something cool and smooth in his palm. That was why he always tried to sleep with his hands hidden by the pillow, it meant if things appeared in his hands no one would see it.

He pulled the dream thing out to look at.

 

It was the tiny Adam Puppet, perfect and realistic down to its little cloth freckles. But he was stuck inside a glass bottle and something about that made Ronan queasy. He was still staring at it when Adam shifted slightly and blinked into wakefulness.

“What’s that?” Adam asked and Ronan desperately didn’t want to explain this creepy little doll to Adam.

“Nothing.” he said, dropping it in the bedside drawer before Adam could get a look at it.

“Can’t sleep?” Adam said.

Ronan shrugged. The dream still seemed to lurk in tatters at the edge of his vision, and Ronan worried if he went to sleep he would fall back into it.

Adam got up.

“Where are you going?” Ronan asked.

 

“To pee.” he said and Ronan listened to his bare feet make quiet sounds against the floor in the room below. But rather than coming back to the loft after the bathroom Adam’s footsteps went over to the window. Ronan grabbed a condom and the lube and followed him down: if he was awake enough to take in the sights perhaps Ronan could suggest a fuck.

When he got down the stairs he saw Adam leaning against the window, fingers spread over the surface, silhouette breaking up the tired neon gold glow of the city.

“What are you doing?” Ronan asked, although he knew. He knew that seeing a city when everyone else was asleep was some kind of magic. And it seemed right for Adam to witness it, for Adam to be here, right now, with him.

Ronan wanted him so much. Honestly, he was sore and he was tired and at this point he could take or leave the sex. But Ronan wanted  _ him _ , wanted Adam and this was the only part of Adam that was being offered. So Ronan would take it.

 

He walked forward until there was no space between him and Adam and the city beyond. Adam smiled up at him and drew him into a kiss. In some ways it was better than sex, not as visceral, not as all-consuming but it almost felt sacred, in the darkness, to feel Adam’s lips against his and for a moment Ronan wondered what it would have been like if they had had this first: chaste kisses after a day of playing video games instead of sex and the too-sharp look in Adam’s eye.

 

After a moment Adam slid his hand up to cup that back of Ronan’s head and then turned them so Ronan was pressed up against the glass. He handed Adam the lube as they finally broke away from each other.

“Turn around.” Adam said, and Ronan smiled because Adam’s face was soft in the dim light and his eyes didn’t look cagey, but molten.

 

Ronan didn’t say anything, for once stemming the flood of curses and encouragements. He just drifted on sensation and quiet of nighttime until Adam came and Ronan followed shortly thereafter. Then they retreated back up to bed and Ronan stared into the dark shadows where he knew Adam’s eyes to be and imagined he could see the movement of each slow blink until they both fell into sleep.

* * *

 

The magic, such as it was, was gone when they woke up the next morning. They fucked and they had breakfast and they played together and it felt so much like everything Ronan wanted. So of course, his mind started to drift, started to whir, started to whisper about everything that was wrong with this picture. Because they weren’t friends, they weren’t lovers holed up for a weekend alone. Ronan couldn’t say everything he felt, couldn’t say  _ anything _ he felt because Adam didn’t want to hear it.

 

But it didn’t matter, because right here, right now, felt like home and comfort and belonging so sharply that it reminded him of the Barns, of his family, of the time before his father died when everything was simple.

So when Adam asked, throwing down the controller, “What do you want to do?”

Ronan said, too honestly, “I want to go home.” And he did. He ached for it. He missed Gansey, he missed his mother and Matthew and that year when he’d had everything and a home too.

“What?” Adam asked and Ronan was completely incapable of explaining the tight ball of sickness and fear and regret in his chest.

 

“Nothing. Nevermind. You meant sex, right?” Ronan said because he couldn’t stand to think about it anymore. Adam nodded somewhat warily.

“Come ‘ere.” Ronan lay back on the couch invitingly. Adam lay over him, legs tangling together and chest against chest. But it still wasn’t close enough. “No,  _ here _ .” he said, and tugged him into a kiss.

 

Adam immediately relaxed. Ronan hadn’t even been aware that Adam was on edge until the tension slid away. That was what Ronan wanted: Adam completely and totally at ease, relaxed and comfortable and safe. He didn’t move his hands from Adam’s waist, thought again of starting here, making out on couches, the thrill of bodies pressed close with clothes in between them. Adam bit at his lip and that wasn’t quite right. He thought of what he would have wanted, if he’d had his friend Adam on top of him like this.

 

Ronan pulled away and looked at Adam for a moment, trying to imagine it. If he were touching Adam for the first time, nervous and awkward, what would he do?

“Can I blow you?” he asked. Adam looked startled.

“What?”

 

Ronan couldn’t help but grin, even if it didn’t play into his little inner story. This was better in some ways, knowing Adam and Adam’s body the way he did. He leaned close to Adam’s good ear and whispered, “Can I… blow you?”

 

“I-if you want.” Adam said, still obviously a little taken aback. They scrambled a little so Ronan was on top and Adam was lying back. Adam pulled off his underwear and Ronan knew his body so well, knew every curve and edge, knew the knobby knees and sharp collarbones.

His mouth, he realized as his eyes came to rest on Adam’s dick, was watering.

 

Slowly, gently, Ronan took Adam into his mouth. He wasn’t hard yet and there was something wonderful about feeling him swell on Ronan’s tongue. Ronan didn’t know what to do with his mouth, tried sucking a little, moving back and forward the way he figured he was supposed to. Adam was staring down at him and Ronan knew Adam was quiet in bed but he wished now for more direction, for a steady stream of orders so he wouldn’t feel quite so out of his depth.

 

Instead Adam brought a hand up to the back of Ronan’s head, not guiding just sitting there. Ronan took it as encouragement anyway and tried to take more of Adam into his mouth. He got further but it hit the back of his throat and he had to pull back quickly.

 

“Use your hand.” Adam ordered, palm still a gentle pressure at the base of Ronan’s skull. Ronan made a pleased affirmative noise and wrapped his hand around the part of Adam’s cock he couldn’t take into his mouth. He wished Adam would keep talking as he carefully synched up the movement of his hand with the slick slide of his mouth. He worried that it was too messy, to unpracticed, like trying to lecture Gansey on Glendower: an exercise in embarrassment.

He tried again, slowly, so slowly, taking Adam deep as he could and pushing past the discomfort before pulling back to breathe.

“You’re doing so good.” Adam said, voice rough and a little awkward. Ronan’s eyes shot up to Adam’s face as his pulse pounded in his ears. Better than direction, it was encouragement. Carefully Ronan slid back down Adam’s cock as his own hand slipped inside his boxers. He began to jack himself off roughly as he swallowed, Adam’s dick against the back of his throat. “Just like that. Good.”

 

The words made his dick throb and his spine tingle. He never wanted to hear anything else, just that, just Adam’s low voice, accent more pronounced around words of gentle praise.

Adam dug his fingernails in and dragged them across the back of Ronan’s head and the sharp bite of sensation forced a moan out of Ronan’s throat. He was so close, hand moving quickly over his cock even with half his mind focused on Adam’s dick and the sharp bitter taste of precome on his tongue.

 

He knew he was too messy now, saliva slipping from the side of his mouth but he couldn’t stop moving, over and over again sucking Adam down, swallowing, pulling back and breathing, and then back in again. Adam’s other hand cupped his cheek and he spoke again.

“So good. God, you’re amazing.” Adam said, barely above a murmur but Ronan strained to hear every word. “You feel so good. Just keep going, you’re doing so well.” His cheeks burned and his eyes did too, loving the taste and the feeling and Adam’s words echoing in his ears. “Yeah, Ronan. Ronan, fuck you’re so good. Please.”

 

And then Adam was coming as though it had snuck up on him. Luckily Ronan had been on an upstroke so he didn’t choke on the come suddenly flooding his mouth. He swallowed and kept swallowing until it was gone as Adam shuddered through his orgasm.

 

Adam relaxed and started to soften in his mouth so Ronan pulled off and panted into Adam’s hip. He was so close, wanted it so bad, but he didn’t want to speak, wanted to just hear Adam’s voice in his head forever. Adam’s hand was running gently over his head and down his neck and there wasn’t an ounce of tension in the muscles of Adam’s stomach under Ronan’s free hand.

 

He knew he was moaning but he couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. He came with a cry and it was so good.  _ He _ was so good. Adam had said Ronan was good. He felt the tears slip out of the corners of his eyes but he really didn’t give a shit right now.

 

“Hey, hey.” Adam said, apparently of a different mindset. Ronan just stroked himself through the aftershocks and ignored him. “Hey,” he said again, “are you okay?”

“Shut up,” Ronan mumbled, lips brushing the soft skin of Adam’s hip.

“Did I do something wrong?” No, no, no, everything was perfect. He didn’t say that, obviously.

“Ugh,” he said instead, loving how wrecked his voice was, “shut up. It’s nothing. I always do this.” There were still a few errant tears but the rest of Ronan was floating in a post-orgasm haze.

“No, you d-” Adam stopped. Then there was a pause and Ronan almost smirked against Adam’s skin. “Oh.” he said after a moment.

“Yeah.” he said, unwilling to feel uncomfortable or ashamed.

“Okay,” Adam said, after only a second’s pause. “You did so good.”

Ronan suppressed a full body shiver at the words, dug his face further into the crease of Adam’s thigh. When he’d composed himself enough to speak he said, for the third time:

“Shut  _ up _ .”

 

They lay like that for a while, as Adam made circles in Ronan’s hair with his thumb and Ronan’s tears dried. Then Adam guided him up by the back of his head into a kiss. They stayed like that for a while more, exchanging easy, light kisses.

 

Eventually Ronan pulled away. He took off his dirty boxers and dropped them on the floor which caused Adam to make a little disgusted face. Ronan just laughed, full of some feeling he didn’t want to name. Then he pulled Adam back to bed even though he wasn’t tired, just curled around Adam’s back and breathed in the smell of him. He never wanted this moment to end.

But it had to. Ronan knew that. The sun set and they got dressed for the first time since Friday. There was silence and it wasn’t awkward, they were usually pretty quiet, but somehow it was still painful, like the slow rip of a band-aid.

 

This weekend had felt so surreal, like one of the rare perfect, fearless dreams. They were just about to walk out the door when Gansey called.

“Hey.” Gansey said.

“Hey.”

“So, can I come back now?”

Ronan glanced over at Adam hands balled in his pockets by the elevator.

“Yeah, I’m just headed out now. I’ll be back soon.”

“Good. Because I seem to remember you promised me an explanation.”

“Yup.” Ronan said, popping the ‘p’ sound obnoxiously before hanging up.

Ronan grabbed his keys and walked over to Adam. The silence descended again and Ronan wanted to do something stupid as they rode the elevator down, like reach over and grab Adam’s hand. But he didn’t.

 

When they got in the car he turned on the music out of habit more than desire to listen. Adam’s face when Ronan glanced over was impassive, as though he was already thinking about other things, already walking away and Ronan wanted to tug him back. But it wasn’t his place. So he drove Adam back to his neighborhood without saying a word.

 

“Friday?” Ronan asked when he’d stopped the car and turned down the music.

“Sure.” Adam was too much of a professional to sound less than perfectly conciliatory.

“You have your money?” he asked as Adam reached for the door handle. Ronan wasn’t ready for him to leave.

“Yeah.” Adam said, and this time he did sound a little like he thought Ronan was an idiot, “I got it.”

Ronan didn’t say goodbye. Because that’s not what they did. And he didn’t let himself watch Adam walk away, just started the car and headed back to the apartment.

Now that Adam was gone he felt antsy and untethered, wanted to drive somewhere, anywhere, too fast and reckless. But he was very aware of the difficult conversation that was waiting for him at home. The whole way back he was trying to figure out some way to say this that wasn’t awful, wouldn’t make Gansey hate him.

 

When his headlights illuminated the curve of the Camaro’s back window Ronan felt something inside him loosen a bit, inexplicably comforted by the familiar sight. This was Gansey, Ronan reminded himself, he hadn’t driven Gansey away yet. Maybe he wouldn’t manage it this time either.

 

Gansey was on his bed when Ronan came in, shoes off, glasses on, the contents of a small suitcase half strewn out beside him and a book open on his lap, as if he had been unpacking before getting side-tracked. When the elevator door clanged shut behind Ronan he looked up, carefully sliding a bookmark into the book and setting it aside. He looked Ronan over carefully, checking for injuries or a drunken sway or whatever it was Gansey saw when he looked at Ronan. And that assessing gaze at least was familiar. Ronan cocked an eyebrow, held his hands up by his side and turned in a little circle to give Gansey the full view. Apart from one hickey on his collarbone there wasn’t much to see, at least not with his clothes on.

“Have fun with Malory?”

 

“I didn’t go. I rented a hotel room and hiked around the woods outside Henrietta.”

Henrietta was a small town a few hours away that Gansey was more than a little obsessed with. Ronan had spent an inordinate amount of time that summer investigating the sleepy little town. He felt a little bad that Gansey had gone alone this time.

 

“Find anything interesting?” he asked, because if he had there was a chance of distracting him and maybe putting this conversation off until later. But no luck, Gansey just cocked his head to the side and sighed like a put-upon parent.

“Ronan.”

“Yeah, I know.” he said, collapsing next to Gansey on the bed, lying back, knees brushing.

“Who is he?” Gansey asked when Ronan didn’t say anything else.

“Just a-” But he cut himself off. Adam wasn’t ‘just’ anything. “A guy I picked up. We have sex.” Gansey has turned where he sat so he can look down at Ronan sprawled on the bed. Ronan closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see Gansey’s face for the next part. “For money.”

“What like-”

“Like I pay him and we fuck.” Ronan said to the darkness behind his eyelids. He imagined that he could hear Gansey swallow. He couldn’t stand the silence so he filled it. “That’s where I go on Fridays. We’ve been doing this for a while. And I just, he needs the money Gansey, I can tell. And this time, I don’t know he made up some bullshit excuse about school fees but I think he might be in trouble or owe someone money. And I had to do something. I had to help him.”

He knew he said too much as soon as it was out of his mouth.

 

“You care about him.” Gansey said and it wasn’t a question. But Ronan nodded anyway and bit his tongue as hard as he could. There was more silence but Ronan didn’t have anything left to say. Finally, voice quiet, Gansey said:

“Can we help him?”

 

Ronan’s eyes snapped open and the first thing he saw was Gansey’s pinched face. Ronan’s heart pounded because he didn’t look angry or disappointed, just concerned, a little worried and determined like he did when he had a problem to solve.

“What?” Ronan asked dumbly.

“Well, if you say he needs the money, and he’s sleeping with people to get it, that’s hardly ideal. But I mean, we could look into job placement and finding him an apartment if he doesn’t have one. If he’s in a bad situation we can get him out of it.”

 

Ronan’s chest hurt. He was certain in that moment that there was no one in the world so stubbornly, completely  _ good _ as Richard Campbell Gansey III. He threw himself up and wrapped his arms around Gansey’s neck. The angle was awkward, hips twisted and half slipping off the bed but Ronan didn’t care, he just viciously dug his nose into the crook of Gansey’s neck and held on as tightly as he could.

 

They stayed like that for a long moment and Ronan thought of how he’d wanted to help Adam, but had never really thought of it that way, how he would never be the type of person Gansey was, never be that kind and thoughtful and good. But that was okay, because he had Gansey here to make him better, to point out the things his own selfish brain missed.

Finally he pulled away.

 

“That’s not going to be easy.” he said, because he knew Adam and Gansey didn’t. “He won’t take charity. And he’s not looking for a knight in shining armor. But… I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” Gansey nodded.

“And in the meantime, you don’t- it’s not wrong.” He can’t bring himself to make it into a question, too vulnerable already.

Gansey shrugged slowly.

“It is what it is. Better you than someone else.”

“Yeah.”

 

They were both quiet in thought for a moment. Then Gansey looked over at him again.

“What’s his name?”

“Adam.” Ronan said and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Seeing it, Gansey smiled too.

“What’s he like?”

Ronan had no idea how he could describe Adam, didn’t think there were words for the things Adam was, but for Gansey, he would try.


	8. our time now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, it’s not that easy. He wants to keep his distance and I can’t just come out and say ‘Hey, whatever shit you’re in, I am, or I know people who are, rich enough to make it disappear.’ I’m pretty sure he’d run and never look back.” And then, almost to himself, “He’s not really the easiest to talk to.”  
> “But Ronan, you’re such a charming conversationalist.” Gansey said dryly and Ronan rolled his eyes.  
> “Fine, you want to talk to him?” Ronan said.

Ronan tried to bring it up, that Friday.

“I talked to my roommate.” he said, words carefully casual, “He said we might be looking for a third person to share rent.”

“Hmm,” Adam said noncommittally. And then, “Harder to sexile two roommates than one.”

“I guess.” Ronan said, glancing over and trying to see if Adam was being purposefully obtuse. “You know anyone who might be looking for a place?”

“No.” Blunt. And in it Ronan could hear,  _ you don’t know me _ and  _ we’re not friends _ and maybe  _ don’t push me _ .

 

So Ronan dropped it awkwardly. When Ronan told Gansey about it later he looked disappointed and understanding and it pissed Ronan off to no end.

“Look, it’s not that easy. He wants to keep his distance and I can’t just come out and say ‘Hey, whatever shit you’re in, I am, or I know people who are, rich enough to make it disappear.’ I’m pretty sure he’d run and never look back.” And then, almost to himself, “He’s not really the easiest to talk to.”

“But Ronan, you’re such a charming conversationalist.” Gansey said dryly and Ronan rolled his eyes.

“Fine, you want to talk to him?” Ronan said.

Gansey looked taken aback for a moment.

“What?”

Ronan shrugged.

“You could tag along, _charm_ _him_ , and then afterward the three of us could talk.”

“You mean…”

“You’re twenty-four years old, Gansey-boy, I think you can say the word: ‘threesome.’”

Gansey blushed and Ronan snorted.

 

It had occurred to him before, that weekend in the apartment had particularly brought it to mind. There was something wrong with having Adam here but Gansey not, dividing up two important people in his life. Putting the two halves together seemed… right.

 

And he and Gansey had kissed a few times, back in high school, Ronan knew there was something there even though he’d always been too chicken-shit to make anything of it, too worried about ruining their friendship. Just this though, no strings, no feelings, just fun sex seemed like the perfect way to go about it. If Gansey could get the hell over himself.

He was still blushing.

“I… do you think…”

 

And more than that, Ronan wanted Adam to meet Gansey, wanted to show him the sleeker, better, kinder version of Ronan that was Gansey. He didn’t know why, didn’t know what self-destructive urge pushed him to show Adam exactly what he was missing, but anything less than that was a kind of lie. And Ronan was not a liar.

 

“Just an idea, Gansey, relax. But yeah, I think Adam needs to meet you on even ground, in a situation he knows if he’s going to trust you, us.”

Gansey ran his thumb over his bottom lip gently as he thought.

“O-kay,” he said eventually, “yeah, I mean, if you think so. I don’t, that would be fine.”

“Fine?” Ronan said, mildly offended, he put a hand on Gansey’s shoulder. “Gansey not to brag, but Adam’s gonna blow your fucking mind.”

He laughed as Gansey’s blush returned in full force.

They discussed it some more and decided a) the fewer delays the better, and b) a hotel room might make Adam more comfortable than the apartment, free to leave at any time and all that. Other than that they didn’t really talk about the reality of it, just worked out practicalities, guessed at a price that would be fair and then how much they could add to that before Adam would think it was too much. Friday rolled around and Ronan and Gansey piled into the Camaro on autopilot. They were quiet on the drive to Adam’s spot, Gansey refusing for once to allow Ronan to crank up his own music. When they got there Adam was already waiting.

Ronan rolled down the window as they stopped.

 

“Get in loser.” he said, smiling around the unsaid rest of the sentence.

“Was that a Mean Girls reference?” Gansey accused, knowing Ronan too well.

Adam didn’t move, eyes flicking between them and Ronan almost felt bad that they hadn’t waited a week, let Ronan ask Adam before bringing Gansey along. Ronan tried to project his own calm confidence in Adam’s direction.

“Come on.” he said, getting out and giving Adam room to get into the backseat. Adam only hesitated a split second before getting in and Ronan slid back into the passenger seat.

Gansey had clearly defaulted into what Ronan thought of as his ‘charming young man’ mode because he offered Adam his hand between the seats.

“Gansey.” he said.

“Adam.” Adam returned, before dropping Gansey hand. Gansey pulled the car back into the street. “Are you…?”

“Ronan’s roommate, yeah. And you’re his-” No one else would have even heard the slight pause, but Ronan knew Gansey better than that, “Adam.” he finished awkwardly. Ronan rolled his eyes and looked back at Adam.

“I’ve got three-hundred and fifty will that be enough?” They had debated going an even four-hundred but decided that was pushing it.

“For-”

“For both of us, yeah.”

Adam’s face revealed nothing as he did whatever internal calculation he needed.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, “Three-fifty should be enough.” Ronan couldn’t stop smiling even though he probably looked like an idiot. It felt like the moment before a race, tense and exciting and perfect.

 

He realized Gansey had gotten them to the hotel they had agreed on and quickly got out. He paid for their usual room, trying to keep as much as possible the same so Adam would feel comfortable. As they walked down the hallway Ronan could hear the cadence of Gansey’s breathing, carefully controlled and self-consciously even. Somehow that settled Ronan in his skin. He was the common denominator here; it was his job to be calm.

 

So when they got into the room Ronan quickly took a spot on the bed, back to the headboard, ready to orchestrate this whole affair, be it mess or masterpiece.

“Come ‘ere.” Ronan said, patting the bed beside him, wanting Adam closer. Adam’s face did something complicated but he sat and Ronan slung an arm over his shoulders, reassuring him that they were here together, same as they always were.

Gansey just stood awkwardly by the door, watching them.

 

“Gansey,” Ronan said, mock whisper but loud enough to be heard across the room, “is a bit of a prude. So this should be interesting.”

“Just because I don’t walk around the apartment naked 24/7 does not make me a prude.” Gansey said but it was rushed and defensive and just made Ronan smile harder. He wanted to see Gansey squirm for a few minutes more but Adam had other ideas. He shrugged out from under Ronan’s arm and walked over to Gansey.

 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked and Ronan could only imagine what it would feel like, seeing Adam for the first time, intense and gorgeous and impossible, and having him ask you something like that. Gansey couldn’t even make words, Ronan saw his head bob. And they were kissing.

Ronan had expected, in a dim far off way, to be jealous. But there was only the incandescent thrill of disparate parts of himself falling together perfectly. He felt settled and assured and warm all over as Adam’s hands tugged at the bottom of Gansey’s sweater.

 

Adam stripped him piece by piece and Ronan pulled off his own clothes clumsily, caught up in the vision of the two of them. When Gansey was fully naked Ronan came closer, almost worried he’d be burned by the bright heat of the two of them, Gansey’s bare shoulder covered by Adam’s long-fingered hand. When they broke their kiss Ronan took Adam’s place kissing Gansey.

 

It was different, they were different, than the kids who had kissed so many years ago, and Ronan was aware of all the places he was rough and sharp, all the ways he could hurt these two people, if he wasn’t careful. But he could be careful. For them, he could.

 

So he was gentle when he led Gansey back to the bed and climbed over him. The slide of skin against skin was incredible, to be this close to someone he knew almost better than himself. But he was also very aware, as he turned them so Gansey was on top, of the rustle of Adam undressing by the door. When the sounds stopped he looked over Gansey’s shoulder and smiled at the more familiar but no less astounding sight of Adam’s lithe nakedness.

Adam joined them on the bed and Ronan kissed him, deep and heated but trying to be comforting.

 

“How do you want to do this?” Adam asked, eyes on Ronan. And somehow he hadn’t thought this through, had fantasized and imagined but never really contemplated the reality of having these two boys together in the same place. Suddenly he didn’t want the responsibility of deciding, sure that he would do something wrong.

Ronan’s gaze flicked to Gansey but he just stared back, ready and willing to do anything Ronan asked. Looking back at Adam there was the same look, if a little more guarded. Ronan couldn’t breathe with the weight of their trust.

 

“He could fuck you.” he managed, because it was the first thing he thought of and he wasn’t sure he could explain anything more complicated than that. He shrugged,  _ just a suggestion _ , he said with his eyes.

“Okay.” Adam said, accepting. He got up to get the lube and condoms and Ronan moved so his back was to the headboard again and Adam returned, crawling past Gansey so he was facing Ronan on all fours.

Ronan ran his hands through Adam’s hair as his pulse pounded in his ears and Gansey slicked his fingers.

 

There was something still tense in the line of Adam’s back and Ronan didn’t like it, but he supposed he could understand. Adding Gansey was new, different, Adam was just taking a moment to adjust.

 

“Okay?” Ronan asked, wanting to be sure that Adam was on board before they went any further. Adam nodded without hesitation and that soothed Ronan a bit.

 

With the first slick sound Adam’s breath caught for a second and Ronan wanted to kiss him but the angle was wrong. Then Adam collapsed gracefully forward onto his elbows, resting his forehead against Ronan’s thigh. Ronan kept carefully petting Adam’s hair as Gansey stretched him.

 

And that was something else: Gansey. Methodical, determined, one-track minded as Ronan watched his face, gaze focused on the place where his fingers disappeared into Adam. It felt natural seeing Gansey like this, like a continuation of every late night research binge or early morning drive, this was Gansey as alive and present and boyishly real as Ronan had ever seen him.

 

He noticed Adam relax as Gansey added a third finger. And Ronan wanted to break the silence, no words above their three stuttered, panting breaths. But he didn’t. This wasn’t the time for talk, for praise even though he wanted to tell Adam how good he was, how much Ronan lo-

How proud he was and happy that Adam was here with them, part of his life. He thought if he opened his mouth all kinds of sappy shit might tumble out.

 

Gansey had pulled out and was rolling on a condom and Ronan felt Adam’s hands dig into his thighs. Without thinking about it he pulled one hand from its place in Adam’s hair and twined their fingers together. The angle was awkward but Adam just squeezed Ronan’s hand tightly.

Ronan watched Gansey line up and then push in, solid and inexorable, and Ronan couldn’t help himself.

 

“Go slow, but hard, that’s the way he likes it.” he told Gansey, but really the words were for Adam.  _ See _ , they said _ , I know you _ ,  _ you can trust me, trust us _ .

 

Gansey pulled out slower than Ronan would have, but thrust back with a force that jarred a groan out of Adam so clearly he wasn’t doing too bad. The rhythm was good and Ronan barely thought about anything but the sound of Adam’s moans.

 

After a few minutes Adam cut himself off mid-sound to say, “Wait, wait.” Breathy but sure. Gansey stopped before Adam had even finished speaking. “No,” he said, “Ronan, here.” And he tugged at Ronan’s thigh. Ronan moved unthinkingly in the direction Adam pulled, wanting to be wherever Adam thought he should be. When he was slumped down further Adam wrapped a hand around his dick and Ronan shook a little. He’d almost forgot that he was present, so consumed was he in Adam’s pleasure that his own faded into the background. But it reared its head again as Adam said, quietly, “Okay.” As though now everything was as it should be.

 

Gansey began moving again as Adam licked at the head of Ronan’s cock. And just this, just Adam choosing to reach out, wanting him closer, was enough to have Ronan on the edge, gritting his teeth and forcing his hand not to tremble where it cupped the back of Adam’s head.

Curses started to slip out, muttered incomprehensible strings of every vulgar word he could think of. Gansey laughed at him and Ronan groaned out a pointed “fuck o-off” just for him. But Adam just took him deeper, swallowing as the head of Ronan’s cock brushed the back of his throat.

 

Ronan watched through half-open eyes as Gansey began to jerk Adam off, kissing along his back and Ronan wanted to be closer, wanted to be underneath Adam, or pressed to Gansey’s side, wanted to be the one touching them both instead of just someone being touched.

Gansey whispered something in Adam’s ear that Ronan couldn’t hear but he wanted to. Adam swallowed over and over around Ronan’s cock and he would happily die like this, with one hand buried in Adam’s hair and the other clutching at Adam’s hand.

 

Gansey groaned through his orgasm and oh, that was what his best friend looked like when he came. It was beautiful really but nonetheless Ronan filed it away as something he could probably mock Gansey for later. Gansey didn’t move away, just draped himself over Adam’s back and continued to jerk him. Adam pulled off Ronan’s dick, and Ronan squeezed his hand encouragingly as he gasped and shook and came.

 

As the aftershocks were probably still rolling through him, Adam took Ronan back into his mouth, like he needed something to ground him. The bed shifted as Gansey pulled out and disposed of the condom.

 

“Gansey.” Ronan managed. His voice was wrecked and he didn’t trust his mind enough to speak, but he wanted Gansey back beside them. “A-a-” but he didn’t get out Adam’s name before he was coming.

 

He was slow coming back to himself, aware first of Adam’s hair under his hand, and then Gansey’s breath slowly evening out. He finally let go of his grip on Adam’s hand and allowed Gansey to pull Adam onto his side, head bumping the outside of Ronan’s thigh.

“Well?” he asked to the room at large. And it meant,  _ tell me that was okay, tell me I’m allowed to have this, tell me you’re alright _ . He knew Gansey would understand but he wasn’t sure Adam could hear everything he wanted to say.

Gansey laughed, warm and gently mocking, like  _ of course, you utter loser _ .

 

“Congratulations, you had a good idea. Probably your first.” Gansey said.

And he met Gansey’s gaze and it looked starry-eyed and blown away, no doubt just the way Ronan’s did. He was beginning to think that was just Adam’s effect on everyone. Now, Gansey would mention it, cool and easy in the silence, ‘If you need a job we could set you up’ or ‘Do you need a place to stay?’ But before Gansey could find whatever perfect words he had inside his chest, Adam pulled away from them.

 

“Adam?” Ronan asked, worried by his swift, jerky movements.

“I’ve got to go.” And Ronan knew that tone of voice, knew it from the other side: when Ronan sounded like that it meant he was barely holding it together. Then Adam shrugged and it was gone behind the brick wall of his impassive face. “I’ve got homework to do.”

 

And Ronan knew it was a lie, knew something was wrong but it was so sudden, a jolt like the ground falling away from him and he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know where it had gone wrong to start making it right.

“Oh,” Gansey said, with a wide-eyed glance at Ronan as Adam continued to dress. “Of course. We’ll give you a ride.”  

“Sure.”

Ronan started getting dressed while his mind scrambled for something to say. Gansey followed and it was  _ Gansey, _ he had to know what to say, he always knew what to say. But they were both struck mute by Adam’s cold eyes and steady hands.

In the car Ronan and Gansey kept looking at each other, each daring the other with their eyebrows to fucking _say_ _something_. But Ronan couldn’t find the words. He tried:

“Adam?” But didn’t even get as far as ‘are you okay?’ because Adam responded, not looking away from the window.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Like it didn’t matter, like Ronan didn’t matter, like their transaction was done and he was ready for this whole ordeal to be over. And what the fuck did Ronan know, maybe that was what he was thinking. Maybe he just wanted his money and a ride home, not some guy who thought he knew him, some guy trying to be what? Friends?

 

“Nothing.” Ronan muttered, and swallowed bitterly.

And Gansey followed his lead, let the silence hang awkwardly until they got to Adam’s neighborhood. Ronan didn’t want to get out, didn’t want to let Adam run away, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to make Adam stay when he clearly didn’t want to. So he got out and pulled the seat to let Adam out.

“Almost forgot,” he said, because he knew if he said  _ wait _ his voice would crack. He pulled Adam’s money out and handed it over. “Next week?” he said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

Adam nodded and Ronan sighed, letting his go, getting back into the car and letting Gansey drive them away.

 

Neither of them said a word until they were back to the apartment.

“What was that?” Gansey said, in the elevator up.

“That… was Adam.” And then, “I told you it wouldn’t be easy.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

They collapsed on the couch and Ronan contented himself that at least they, or he, could try again the next week.


	9. crooked smiles fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At 11:13 he was cursing Adam for not at least calling ahead to let him know he’d be late. Then he remembered Adam still didn’t have his number.  
> This realization was met with some creative and heart-felt cursing, some punching of the steering wheel and many sustained blasts on the horn. If he was annoyed then everyone around him damn well better be as well.  
> It was his own fucking fault. He had suggested it back in winter but Adam had changed the subject and Ronan had never brought it up again. It was just that Adam was so reliable, he had forgotten that he didn’t have any other way to get in touch with him.  
> By 11:46 he gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special warnings for this chapter: Blood, canon-typical violence and canon-typical horror elements with discussion of night horrors.

He had a solid game plan this time, a script.

“Adam,” it started, “I know you can take care of yourself.”

Sure from there it was a little fuzzy, but Ronan was good at improvising, he was sure he’d be fine. No Gansey this time, he decided that last week was an indication that Gansey’s natural charm was apparently undone by his awkwardness around sex and thus would do neither of them any good.

 

So just Ronan this time, in the BMW with the music up loud. When he got there Adam wasn’t there yet, so he circled the block a few times before finding a place to park a little way down the street with an eye on where he knew Adam would be.

Then he waited.

It was 10:37 when he got there. By 11:00 he was annoyed. Sure they didn’t have an exact time decided on but it was generally agreed that it was between ten and eleven. Maybe Adam had gotten hung up at what Ronan assumed was his other job, or whatever it was that left him grease-stained.

 

At 11:13 he was cursing Adam for not at least calling ahead to let him know he’d be late. Then he remembered Adam still didn’t have his number. 

This realization was met with some creative and heart-felt cursing, some punching of the steering wheel and many sustained blasts on the horn. If he was annoyed then everyone around him damn well better be as well.

It was his own damn fault. He had suggested it back in winter but Adam had changed the subject and Ronan had never brought it up again. It was just that Adam was so reliable, he had forgotten that he didn’t have any other way to get in touch with him.

 

By 11:46 he gave up. Adam was clearly sick or busy and not going to show. He gritted his teeth, at the very least Adam could have showed up to let him know they couldn’t do anything this week. But by the time he got home he was grudgingly glad that Adam hadn’t dragged himself across the city just to soothe Ronan’s overactive nerves.

 

The weekend dragged by, the days of the week moving treacle slow as Ronan ground his teeth.

“If this is the difference Adam makes, I should be paying him too.” Gansey said on Wednesday when Ronan snapped at him for the thousandth time. Ronan did not find that amusing.

Friday he got there at 10:04. He knew he was early but he was impatient, damnit. So he settled down with his phone to play games that he didn’t really like. At first he glanced up every few minutes, then he got sucked into a Latin Vocab practice game (these fuckers would eat their high scores) and almost forgot he was waiting for anyone. Adam would knock on the window when he got there.

 

The next time he looked up it was 10:41 and there was still no sign of Adam. Something heavy and dangerous settled in his stomach. He put away his phone and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, willing Adam to appear as the minutes ticked past.

 

He waited until 12:11 and it was the longest hour and a half of his life. He ran through every possible option. 

Adam could have been sick two weeks in a row, it happens. But he didn’t show up either week to let Ronan know. Unlikely, considering how shitty he’d looked last time he was sick and he’d still come. 

 

Adam had been sick last week and busy this week or some configuration of the two. Again, unlikely for the same reason. This was about where he stopped being able to be logical.

 

Adam was hurt. This was a terrifying thought considering the fact that he had come after getting beaten up in January. And sure, Ronan had taught him how to fight but what the fuck did that mean when numbers were against you. Or if it was his pimp and he literally couldn’t fight back.

Ronan felt sick. But he focused on the other options.

 

Adam had caught on to Ronan and Gansey’s rather unsubtle attempts to help and decided to book it out of there. Comparatively this was a good option. It meant, if that was true, then Adam was safe if poorer. Or, maybe he was making up the money somewhere other than this particular corner. In which case, a determined voice in Ronan’s head piped up, Ronan could find him.

He realized now he should have been circling around all night, checking other corners in case Adam was nearby. He would have to try tomorrow.

 

He drove home slowly, watching the sidewalk the whole time as though Adam would suddenly jump out from between two warehouses. But of course there was nothing.

 

When he got back to the apartment he had a sudden shining thought: Adam knew where he lived. Maybe he had come to the apartment while Ronan was waiting and he would be upstairs with Gansey right now. It wasn’t the most logical thought but still he bounced on the balls of his feet the entire elevator ride up. And when there was just Gansey, working on some small model of the city he was beginning to construct in the middle of the apartment, no Adam, he felt himself crash back to earth, more worried and frantic than he’d been before.

“Gansey, something’s wrong.”

“Adam?” he asked, dropping the glue and cardstock. Ronan nodded.

“He didn’t show up.”

“Okay, do you know where he lives?”

Ronan shook his head, fear and helplessness boiling under his skin in a way that felt comfortingly like rage.

“Do you know where he usually… works?”

“I know where I pick him up. But that’s where I just was.”

“Okay, we can try calling the hospitals, just… you know, in case.”

“And say  _ what _ ?”

“You’re his brother, I don’t know, whatever.” Gansey said, not really seeing his point.

“I don’t even know his last name, Gansey.”

“...shit.”

Ronan scraped his nails over his scull, trying to make this situation anything other than what it was.

 

“Could we- we don’t know what name he might give at the hospital,” Ronan said, looking at the ripped cuffs of his jeans, “especially if he’s trying to get away from someone. But can’t we just like, ask about people being brought in beat up? Are they allowed to tell us about that?”

Gansey shrugged slowly before setting his jaw.

 

“Let’s go in person, I’m sure I can get some information.”

* * *

 

So that was how they spent the early hours of the morning, driving from hospital to hospital, talking to check in desk staff, Gansey smiling charmingly while Ronan looked menacing over his shoulder. 

 

They didn’t get any information about any assault victim with a first name Adam, and Gansey at least was confident that this was because there wasn’t one, not because they hadn’t impressed or worried the right people. But as dawn approached, Ronan had to admit that they still knew next to nothing. They had no idea when Adam disappeared; it could have been tonight, it could have been last week in which case he probably (hopefully, god Ronan hoped) wouldn’t still be in the hospital. They had only asked about guys coming in after being beaten up but Ronan had no idea what kind of people Adam ran with, for all he knew Adam could have been admitted for a gunshot wound, or a stab wound, or…

God, he couldn’t think about this.

 

Around seven Ronan and Gansey fell into their respective beds for some sleep. But Ronan set an alarm to wake him up in the early evening.

 

His dreams were ghastly. Shadowed figures with sharp teeth and shiny metallic knuckles. Not even the somewhat comforting tck-tck-tck of typical night horrors. So much blood and he knew, the way you just knew things in dreams, that it wasn’t his blood, that it was Adam’s blood, and there was so much of it, too much. But no body, no Adam, just Adam’s blood all over his hands.

He had to wash the blood off his sheets when he woke up, thankful that Gansey was gone, probably talking to the police although Ronan had no idea what Gansey could say.

 

It was only just getting dark when Ronan left the apartment, hands still trembling almost imperceptibly. He drove around the place he usually picked Adam up at first, then branched out, he circled the neighborhood he dropped Adam off in, cursing himself for never following Adam home.

 

He didn’t even know if Adam worked Saturdays. He assumed he must, they would be high traffic days wouldn’t they? But there was no way to know where. He didn’t even know what neighborhoods to look in. He really didn’t think Google was going to cut it here but surprisingly he found a list of supposed areas on the first try. But, driving around the places they listed didn’t really get him anywhere and as the night wore on he saw more and more cop cars show up. There was no way Adam would be around here, these were too well known.

 

Sunday, they did another circuit of the hospitals, going a little farther afield this time just in case. Still nothing and Ronan could feel desperation raking thick claws down his back.

He tried to sleep as little as possible. And he put up all the old traps that he hadn’t needed in months. He knew with dreams like this it was only a matter of time until he brought something back.

 

He slept during the day while Gansey was out or in his car in the mornings. Around Tuesday it occurred to him that he did have some knowledge that you couldn’t get through Google: he knew every drag racing spot in the state, practically. And sure there wasn’t too much overlap but one kind of illegality might beget another, or at least people there might know where to look.

So he drove: first just around the city, checking all the places he knew sometimes had races. Most of them were empty during the week but Ronan found a couple. He raced because at these things anyone who didn’t race was highly fucking suspect. So he raced, even though he felt like he was going to choke on how much he didn’t fucking care about any of this. Afterwards he asked around, got the names of a couple neighborhoods to look at.

 

He was checking out his leads on Friday night and at one point he thought, just for a second, that he saw Adam in the entrance to an alleyway, leaning into some guy’s car. Ronan couldn’t see his face but something about the stretch of his shoulders seemed familiar. But Ronan was going the other direction and by the time he’d flipped a u-turn the boy and the car were gone. He kept circling for the rest of the night but no one came back. At this point he couldn’t even tell if he’d really seen what he thought he’d seen, or if his eyes were playing hopeful tricks on him.

 

Saturday, he brought back something awful. It wasn’t a night horror, as he thought of them, although it was clearly the same breed of creature. No beak, no claws, but crow feathers in a thin densely packed layer like a skin over an otherwise human shape. The only parts not covered with feathers were the shining silver knuckles and the black abyss of its eyes.

It also didn’t seem to want to kill him, didn’t have the single minded fury of the normal night horrors. It got its hands on his once and twisted until Ronan thought it was going to break his arm. It didn’t want him dead, it wanted him in pain, seemed to grow when Ronan cried out.

Getting free was mostly luck and a well-placed kick to its face. Killing it was not luck, it was perseverance and sweat and a pair of scissors hacking away at its chest until everything was covered in dark sticky blood that smelled like rotting meat.

 

Cleaning up the loft afterwards as a whole different kind of nightmare. He called Gansey, who by the grace of god had been out getting breakfast, and warned him to stay at his parents’ for the day. Then he sacrificed one of his sheets to the cause and managed to get the carcass out to the BMW, thankful that they didn’t live in an area with much foot traffic because it definitely looked like a human body he was lugging around.

After it was in the backseat, Ronan realized he had no fucking clue where he was supposed to go with it. Normally he buried the night horrors in the dirt basement of the warehouse, because they we obviously inhuman and even if anyone found them it would open an X-file not a murder case. But after this body rotted he thought the bones would be basically human. He had to bury it somewhere where it wouldn’t be found. 

He desperately wanted to call Gansey, get him to come home, get him to help somehow, to fix it in that Richard Campbell Gansey III way of his. But he didn’t, he just drove out of the city with the windows open for the smell and the rain lashing in.

 

He didn’t realize where he was going until he was almost there. Without thinking about it, like a compass lazily swinging North, he had driven him home. And when he realized it, he didn’t turn around: he couldn’t think of a better place to bury a body. But he wanted to, god he wanted to be anywhere but here.

He had imagined coming home so many times. With Matthew. With Gansey. Triumphant with Declan apologizing at his heels. Never, never alone. Under the grey curtain of spring rain the house was quiet and the ground were dead. Ronan didn’t venture into the fields, just found a shovel behind one of the sheds and exhausted himself digging a hole beneath the plum tree at the end of the drive. It took a while, and blisters formed and broke on his palms. By the time he’d finished the rain had stopped and there was only an echoing silence pressing in on his chest.

 

He threw the bloody shovel in the backseat and started the car, thankful for the roar in a way he had never fully appreciated before.

On the drive back his eyes were bone dry but his breaths were ragged. It had been a long time since he’d felt so acutely that he was falling apart. He wanted to be angry, wanted to sneer at his own pathetic weaknesses but he was too tired even for that. He was just empty, down to his bones.

* * *

 

After that he slept in the car, with a hatchet under the seat. He came back to the apartment during the day for clothes and a shower but mostly he just drove and ate fast food in the BMW on the side of the road. He found a few more races a little further out but didn’t learn anything he didn’t already know. He alternated between nights in new, seedy neighborhoods and evenings in what he thought of as Adam’s places, where Ronan had dropped him off or picked him up.

Every time he fell asleep he was afraid, and every time he woke up alone he was a sickening mixture of relieved (no monsters) and disappointed (no Adam). Each day felt like it was taking him further away and he was so scared. Scared of the night horrors, yes, but also scared of finding Adam’s body in a ditch or never finding out at all. He knew, eventually, he would have to let it go. He would have to make himself believe that Adam had just left, moved away, found a new part of town, that he’d wanted Ronan out of his life and found a way to make it happen. That was the only way Ronan could accept that Adam was gone.

But not yet, he wasn’t ready to accept it just yet.

* * *

 

He jerked awake when a door slammed.

“What are you doing here?” 

It echoed in his head.

Adam.

It was Adam.

That voice was Adam, that face was Adam. 

Ronan felt like he could breathe for the first time in weeks.

“You’re okay.” Ronan said, hands shaking where they were balled in his jacket pockets.

“Of course I am.” And Ronan realized that was anger making Adam’s voice sound like that.

“You didn’t show. I thought-” He cut himself off before he could say the million things he’d imagined like horror movies on the insides of his eyelids.

“I thought,” Adam said, voice still sharp enough to cut, “not showing would be easier than explaining. I thought you’d get the hint.”

 

The fear and worry caught fire in his gut, turned to ash and then to embers of rage.

“Well, I didn’t.” And he wanted to say,  _ couldn’t you have told me? _ and  _ why did you make me worry? _ and  _ God I thought you had died and I would never get the chance to tell you the truth _ .

But he could see himself reflected in Adam’s eyes, see how unhinged he looked, how this must look from Adam’s point of view, the crazy customer who won’t leave. “So that’s it, we’re done?” he asked.

“We were never a ‘we’.” Adam said and Ronan wanted to call him a liar but he didn’t know if maybe it was true.

“Why?” Ronan just wanted to hear him say it, hear him say that Ronan had gone too far, pushed too hard, that he wasn’t looking for a savior and he didn’t want a boyfriend.

 

“Do you think you own me? I was always selling a service, not myself. You just bought a bit of my time.” It hurt like fresh scars but it was still better than the alternative, than not hearing, not knowing, than all the other options. It even made sense, Ronan had asked for too much, had gotten in too deep and even if that wasn’t what Ronan had meant by his feelings, he couldn’t blame Adam for that interpretation. “I don’t do threesomes.” he added and that didn’t make any sense.

“I didn’t know that.” Ronan pointed out.

“You didn’t ask.” Adam shot back.

And he couldn’t be angry but he could be confused.

“I assumed if you didn’t do that you would, I don’t know,  _ tell me _ .”

And now Adam really looked agitated, not angry anymore but on edge, wild around the eyes.

 

“I’m not some excuse for you to make out with your best friend. I’m not some gift to give your roommate like-”

Ronan couldn’t help it, he covered his face with his hands and laughed, just a short bark of a laugh but Adam stopped dead.

“That’s so, so not it.” Ronan said. He dropped his hands and looked out at the street beyond, not really seeing it, just seeing Adam sitting in his peripheral vision. “I know… I know what I am. I know I’m a-”  _ monster _ , he thought but didn’t say “-spoiled rich guy with nothing but money to keep your attention. I know I’ve got nothing to actually offer you.” How could he explain that he knew even if Adam had nothing, he still wouldn’t want Ronan. “Gansey,” he said instead, “was a gift to you. I wanted to show you the best part of myself. And the best part of me…” too honest, too honest but he choked out the words, “is him.”

 

And Ronan didn’t lie, but he never told the whole truth, or as close to all of it as that came. In the silence he felt free, unburdened, alive.

Looking over Adam’s face was open and assessing and soft all at once.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked and Ronan nodded because he couldn’t think of a time when the answer to that would be anything other than yes.

 

Kissing Adam felt like it always did, like flying, like racing, like falling. But it also felt like relief and safety and possibility. Ronan was so careful, tried to convey with every tiny movement that he never wanted this to end but if this was the last time he would go gracefully. 

When Adam finally pulled away he looked peaceful and settled in a way Ronan hadn’t seen before but had never realized was missing.

“Okay,” he said, and he rested one hand over Ronan’s, gentle and sure, “take me home.”

Ronan wanted to ask, wanted to voice the million questions. Wanted to ask  _ why me? why now? are you sure? do you even know what this means? _ but really he just wanted to be close to Adam for as long as Adam would let him. But he had a feeling this time that was what Adam wanted too.

* * *

 

He didn’t steer them toward the apartment, instead letting himself drift back to the Barns for the second time in as many weeks. It was so different, now with Adam here and no dead horror filling the back seat. Clear skies but still the silence. 

 

Ronan wasn’t frightened now, wasn’t frightened that he would scare Adam away, wasn’t frightened that he would lose himself inside his own desperation. So he opened his mouth and started to tell a story he wasn’t sure he’d ever have the strength to tell. Not all of it, not the magic ( _ not yet _ , his mind whispered, which was not the same thing as,  _ not ever _ ). But the parts about Gansey, about Declan and about his father.

 

It was a hard story to tell, but he hadn’t expected anything less. At one point Adam pulled away, letting Ronan grind against all his own sharp edges, tearing at parts of himself that had long laid rusting inside his chest. As the last jagged piece of metal ripped away and the last words made their way out of his mouth, Ronan breathed easier than he remembered having done since his father died. In the silence, he glanced over at Adam who was looking out the window, face closed off. Ronan turned back to the road, suddenly unsure if he’d done the right thing.

 

Then Adam reached over and hooked their hands together again, soft and warm and infinitely comforting. Ronan relaxed as they entered the hills around the house.

The sun was mostly set now and it wasn’t quite the right time to see the Barns in their fully glory. Really they should be seen at dawn when the first gold broke through the thick fog to light up the pastures. But dusk would have to do.

 

Adam reached over and squeezed Ronan’s knee just as the house came into view. It still didn’t feel quite the way he’d imagined coming home would feel, but it was not so terribly lonesome anymore. Ronan parked right over the place where the ground was still freshly dug, trying not to think about the last time he was here.

 

They got out and Ronan met Adam’s eyes over the top of the car. And yes, there was that thread of triumph he’d always imagined. He was still a trespasser in his own home, but at least Adam was here to see it. He led the way inside.

 

Nothing had changed. It was exactly as he’d left it and somehow that was both comforting and heartbreaking. They avoided the room where Aurora was. Ronan was still not ready for that. 

He and Adam threaded their way through the house to his room. He paused for a second at the doorway, handle cool beneath his fingers. And then he opened the door.

He had forgotten what it looked like, how utterly  _ his  _ it all felt. He had made nearly every odd thing in this room, or been given it by his father. In this room was a part of himself that he thought might have died, or at least would never again be seen by another living soul. But here it was, under Adam’s keen gaze.

But still there was no fear. Adam belonged here.

They toed off their shoes but otherwise got under the covers fully clothed. Ronan pressed their foreheads together and they breathed the same air. It was a comfort, having this new, perfect person in this old, perfect place. Ronan never wanted to leave.

They drifted to sleep and the last thing Ronan saw was Adam’s eyes. And the last thought he had, looking at them, was:

_ I’m home _ .


	10. I'm yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were still complicated. There was still the matter of money, of housing, of nightmares, of secrets. But knowing that Adam was invested in this, wanted help, wanted Ronan, made things a little easier. The worst had happened, Adam had disappeared, but he was back now and now he wanted to be here. And, well actually talking seemed to solve a lot of issues Ronan had thought there were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the two-part epilogue today, and then we're done! Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me, your kudos and comments and encouragement has meant the world to me. Thank you all so much.

The next morning, in a cafe his mother always used to take them to, Ronan glanced over at Adam.

“What’s your last name?” he asked. Ronan knew he should really ask what his first name was, because for all he knew it wasn’t Adam. But he couldn’t think about that possibility right now.

“Parrish.” Adam said, carefully not looking up from his pancakes.

“Hmm, okay.” Ronan said, squirrelling it away for another day.

* * *

 

Things were still complicated. There was still the matter of money, of housing, of nightmares, of secrets. But knowing that Adam was invested in this, wanted help, wanted Ronan, made things a little easier. The worst had happened, Adam had disappeared, but he was back now and now he wanted to be here. And, well actually talking seemed to solve a lot of issues Ronan had thought there were.

 

For instance, when Ronan finally bit out a question about Adam’s pimp Adam just gave him this confused and vaguely disdainful look.

“I don’t have a- one of those.”

“Oh. So you just, work freelance or whatever?”

Now Adam looked like he wanted to laugh.

“Pretty much.”

“So you don’t have to do this.” Ronan said, relieved. They would find Adam another job and it’d be fine.

 

Adam’s face closed down again.

“I need the money, Ronan. So yeah, I do have to do this.”

“But you can get a different job to make money.”

“You think that never occurred to me? I already work two jobs on top of school, but they’re minimum wage and they don’t cover rent. I’m not going to find another job that pays this well, and has hours this flexible.”

 

There was something hard to swallow about this. It had been easy to imagine some shadowy group of thugs forcing Adam to do something he didn’t want to do. But the idea that it was just shitty circumstances and low wages, something as simple as convenience that kept him coming back was hard to accept.

Ronan hadn’t realized how much he’d unconsciously built himself, and Gansey to a lesser extent, up as Adam’s great saviors until Adam made it clear that he didn’t need saving.

 

But then Ronan was relieved. Adam wasn’t in danger, this was his choice. He was okay. This was a good thing.

So that was a weight off Ronan’s chest. And Adam wasn’t homeless, he had said something about rent. They could figure this out.

* * *

 

Actually getting to an accord was hard though, and it took a month or so. At first they just kept doing what they’d done before. Meeting up, having sex. But now when Ronan paid him there was something unsettled in Adam’s eyes. Everything else was the same, except at the end of the evening they’d make plans to meet up sometime during the week, just to hang out or go racing or get something to eat. 

During these times they skirted a strange line between friends hanging out and two guys going on dates. They kissed but it was chaste and a little awkward, as though Adam didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t getting paid to do it.

 

There were still strange delineations, things they didn’t talk about. They didn’t talk about the Barns, they didn’t talk about Adam’s school, or the way Ronan slept seldom and desperately as if each time he closed his eyes could be the last. And the definitely didn’t talk about Adam’s past, even though Ronan wanted to ask. But he knew the look of someone barely pieced together, mismatched reactions and jagged glances, so Ronan didn’t push.

 

A couple weeks after going to the Barns Adam’s roommates were out of town for a few days so Ronan came over. They slept on the pull-out couch and it was lumpy and invariably Adam would kick, or steal the blankets, or push until Ronan rolled right off the bed. He didn’t mind though, it was just a sign that Adam was comfortable, unguarded in a way he hadn’t been in all those hotel rooms.    
Adam refused the ride to class in the mornings, only allowed Ronan to pick him up from the coffeeshop or the garage in the evenings. That Friday, he finished his homework and slipped into the bathroom. Ronan hadn’t really thought much about the day beside the fact that Adam didn’t have to go to school tomorrow.

Then Adam came out in his tightest pair of jeans and a shirt that displayed his delicate collarbones.

 

“I’m going out.” he said. Ronan was a lot of things, but he was not an idiot. Still, he had to ask.

“Why?”

Adam’s face was obstinate but his hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“Because rent is due next week.”

“How short are you?”

“I’m not short.” At Ronan’s look Adam ducked his head and shrugged sharply. “It’s just right now it’s food or rent and I kind of need both.”

“Great, well I hate grocery shopping. So I can just give you the money and you can go get food.” Ronan said, voice crisp and daring Adam to disagree. Adam, clearly, did not take well to being dared.

“Yeah that’s not going to happen.”

“Uh- yeah, pretty sure it is.”  Ronan said, hoping to brazen his way through.

“Ronan, I’m not going to take your fucking money.”

“I think, for once, this wouldn’t actually be considered fucking-money. Unless you want it to be. If that would make you feel better.”

Adam’s jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists.

“I’m not having this conversation now.”

“So you’d rather go out and fuck other people than just talk about this shit?”

“No,” Adam said, voice like a knife edge, “I’d rather have enough money lying around so I could be picky about where it came from. Or better yet, just inherit all my money so I don’t have to do jack shit. But I’m not like you Ronan, and you don’t get to fucking judge me for it.”

And then he was gone.

Ronan wanted to storm after him. Wanted to yell and fight until Adam shoved him against the wall and just  _ explained  _ what the hell he was thinking. But he was paralyzed, wondering if this was it, if Adam expected Ronan to be gone by the time he gets back, if this was some subtle-as-a-brick way of saying they were done.

 

And maybe a good guy would have made it easy. Would have grabbed his stuff, left some kind of pathetic note and hoped that Adam forgave him or changed his mind. But no one had ever accused Ronan of being a good guy. If Adam wanted to end this, Ronan was going to make him fucking say it.

So he didn’t go anywhere, just sprawled out as if he owned the place and stared unseeing at the reruns on the shitty little tv as the hours crawled past. 

 

When Adam finally got back he looked so tired, eyes drooping and shoulders slumped. Ronan didn’t want to continue the fight. Instead he turned off the tv and pulled Adam onto the bed.

Adam was stiff at first, turned his head away. But when Ronan just dug his nose into the soft sensitive spot behind Adam’s ear he relaxed. They lay like that for a while, both content in the silence, giving and taking comfort from where their bodies touched.

 

“I need to shower.” Adam said, pulling away. And Ronan didn’t protest because he smelled like come and other people’s sweat and because his eyes were still skittish and faraway.

They didn’t talk about it that night. Or the next morning. 

 

In stutters and starts, they reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies. Still they didn’t fuck, didn’t even get fully naked but they’d grind against each other like teenagers until they were gasping and they would sleep curled up with fingers just barely trailing under the waistbands of boxers. It was a different kind of intimacy, but Adam seemed more relaxed now, not so filled with the pretense of confidence.

They both seemed happy to pretend Friday hadn’t happened until the next Wednesday. They were parked outside Adam’s place, talking before he went up.

“I’ll pick you up on Friday? We can go try out that new Chinese hole in the wall that Gansey liked.”

“Can’t.” Adam said, not looking at him. “I’m going out.” Those same three words and once again Ronan wanted to punch something.

“I don’t get it, Adam.” Ronan sneered, angry and hurt and vicious in his pain. “You can fuck someone for money as long as they don’t give a shit about you?”

“Maybe.” Adam said and it almost sounded like the truth but Ronan didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit. You don’t want to have sex anymore, fine, whatever. Just fucking say it.”

“No.” Adam sounded furious and something in Ronan was happy that at least Adam cared that much. “You know why we haven’t had sex in weeks? Because if I’m going to fuck you, money is going to have nothing to do with it.” The last bit came out low and angry and burning. Ronan felt his mouth dry up.

“But you need the money.” he said somewhat thickly. From Adam’s expression, Adam clearly knew he had the upperhand now.

“Which is why I need to go out on Friday. But this,” he gestured between them, “is not a transaction.” It made sense, it did and Adam’s conviction was catching but Ronan couldn’t let go yet.

“But if we’re going to fuck anyway, why can’t I just pay you and then you don’t have to sleep with anyone else? Win-win, Adam.”

 

“Because,” Adam’s voice was calm and distant, as though he wasn’t entirely present anymore. “As long as you’re paying me, you’re in control and I just have to do what you say. And I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Ronan suddenly wasn’t entirely sure he was awake. Because this sounded suspiciously like a horrific nightmare.

“Did you- did I ever… make you do something you didn’t want to do?”

 

Adam sighed and his shoulders relaxed; his eyes refocused on Ronan’s face.

“No. But you could have. And I knew that. I always knew it. That’s no basis for a relationship Ronan.”

“Okay.” And then because it was clawing at his gut and it was either speak or fucking throw up he said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Adam sounded confused and a little guarded.

“For a lot of things.”

And he left it at that.

* * *

 

The only thing that still didn’t sit right with Ronan after that was Adam and Gansey, or more precisely Adam’s avoidance of Gansey. Adam steered them away from hanging out at the apartment, unless Ronan happened to mention that Gansey was away. He never said anything outright but it was pretty obvious.

 

And Gansey, when Ronan invited him along to whatever he and Adam were doing that night, just said he didn’t want to be the third wheel. Which was stupid because Ronan was pretty sure he’d been the third wheel for practically every date Gansey had ever gone on in high school.

It would be easy to get them into the same room with just a little careful maneuvering but Ronan got it, at least a little. The last time Adam had seen Gansey, they’d fucked and Adam had gotten pissed off, and it had led him avoiding Ronan, and it was all kind of shitty. So seeing him again was going to be awkward, maybe Adam even thought Gansey was the kind of dick who’d bring it up. Of course he  _ wasn’t _ , but Adam didn’t know that.

 

They just needed something to soothe the way for that first re-meeting. And while Ronan personally would have been all for getting them both drunk enough to forget how awkward it was, Adam didn’t drink and Gansey got a bit fidgety whenever Ronan was around alcohol. So that was out.

 

Ronan was still trying to figure out how to fix it when he came to pick Adam up one afternoon from the coffeeshop. When Adam came out, there was a girl with him, wearing the same barista apron and looking artfully disheveled with her haphazardly pinned up hair and her beaten up white chucks with sharpie marks on them. She hugged Adam before starting to walk in the other direction and oh, that was an idea.

 

Adam got in the car and Ronan sped up to catch up with the girl, rolling down the window.

“Need a ride?” Ronan asked and Adam was giving him a calculating, wary look. Ronan was not known for his altruism. But before Adam could say anything the girl was accepting and getting into the backseat.

“Adam won’t tell me anything about you.” she said, matter of factly.

“Ashamed of me, Parrish.” Ronan asked, cutting Adam a look without turning his head.

“No, it’s just… complicated.”

“Not that complicated.” Ronan said, and then forcing the words to sound easy, he addressed the girl in the backseat. “I’m the boyfriend. And you are?”

“Blue. Does the boyfriend have a name?”

“Ronan.” Adam replied, just as Ronan said “Your name is  _ Blue _ ?” Perhaps more derisive than was completely necessary.

“Yup.” she said, popping the ‘p’ and glaring at him in the rearview mirror.

Might as well get to the point.

“You should come with Adam to hang out with my friend Gansey this weekend. I’m sure you’d like him, you can bond over your ridiculous names.”

Adam twisted to look at him directly. Ronan held his eyes for half a second.  _ Work with me _ , he thought.

“Yeah,” Adam said, haltingly, “You should come. After our shift on Saturday.”

“Hmm,” she said, still assessing Ronan in the mirror. “They say you can tell a lot about someone based on their friends.”

“I’ve never heard anyone say that,” Ronan said, just to be difficult.

“Sure,” Blue said, in a tone that sounded a lot like ‘watch it motherfucker’, “I’ll come.”

* * *

 

Gansey and Blue got on really well, it turned out. Kind of sickeningly well. Gansey did his usual, “What do you know about Welsh kings?” but Blue seemed charmed instead of judgemental. 

Adam was tense through the first hour or so but by the time they’d finished their food and Gansey was calling Blue ‘Jane,’ he had relaxed.

Sure, Gansey not so subtly took every beer out of Ronan’s hands half-drunk. And Ronan might have been thinking up less flattering nicknames for Blue. But Adam grinned cockily when he beat them all at Mario Kart and he leaned in when Ronan pulled him over to kiss that smug grin off his face. Blue and Gansey started talking about ley lines in the background and Ronan pulled back just enough to see Adam clearly. 

 

_ See _ , Ronan said with his eyes,  _ I have good ideas sometimes _ .

Adam just cocked an eyebrow like,  _ I’m pretty sure this was just a fluke _ . But he was smiling.


	11. set free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally he settled on something easy, something simple and magical and strange. He dreamt up an origami biplane. If you flicked the front propellor it would turn (impossible already) and take flight. He tested it in the dream and had a hell of a time catching it again. But somehow controls made it less magical than if it flew with its own internal compass. Anyway, it would do. He held it and wanted it and made it real. And then he woke up and it was sitting in his hand, paper and willpower and proof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: discussion of age difference.

The first time Ronan had a nightmare at Adam’s house, all he brought back were claw marks down his back. For him, that was pretty good. It meant he escaped this time, meant somewhere deep down he didn’t want the night horrors to kill him. 

 

It still made him hyper aware of what could have happened if things had gone worse. He had to tell Adam. Ronan couldn’t keep putting him in harm’s way without Adam even being aware of it.

 

But he also couldn’t tell Adam and not Gansey, it was unthinkable to tell one but not the other.

He had to come at it sideways, in his mind. Not think, straight on, ‘I’m going to tell them’ because then he’d choke on the pieces of his broken promise to his father before he even got the words out.

 

Instead he thought around it. Hypothetically, if he were to tell them, how would he prove it? That was a much easier thing to contemplate. What was so impossible that no amount of money or technology could fake it?

 

He thought about a light with no battery, that never dimmed, but that would take a long time to pan out. He walked around the barns and thought about unreal flowers and toasters with no cords but those didn’t seem impossible  _ enough _ .

 

He thought about something he wanted but didn’t have, like a picture of the three of them when they were younger, in uniform, grinning like they were best friends. Maggot could be in it too.

But that was stupid, with photoshop the way it was no one could trust a photo.

He thought about something that worked because it had worked in the dream. Like a crystal ball that showed you your past. Or a mirror that showed you your future. He wasn’t sure either he or Adam wanted to see that.

 

Finally he settled on something easy, something simple and magical and strange. He dreamt up an origami biplane. If you flicked the front propellor it would turn (impossible already) and take flight. He tested it in the dream and had a hell of a time catching it again. But somehow controls made it less magical than if it flew with its own internal compass. Anyway, it would do. He held it and wanted it and made it real. And then he woke up and it was sitting in his hand, paper and willpower and  _ proof _ .

* * *

 

He skirted around the reality as long as he could. But in the end it came down to Adam and Gansey at the apartment and the little paper plane on his bedside table up in the loft. Ronan had to do it now, had to tell them and tell them and tell them until there wasn’t a secret left in his body to poison him.

 

Adam and Gansey were talking about coffee. Gansey had some kind of ridiculous pretentious order that he believed could only be done properly at his preferred hole-in-the-wall coffeeshop.

“Yeah, that’s actually just a black and white, Gansey.” Adam had just said. He continued before Gansey could argue. “I know they call it a ‘blizzard’ but-”

Ronan put a hand on his shoulder and Adam paused for a second to look at him.

“I-” Ronan drew out the sound, turned it into a deep breath, then started again. “I’ve got something to tell you. Both.” If there was the faintest quaver in his voice Ronan refused to admit it, even to himself.

 

“Is this you coming out?” Adam asked, clearly trying to break the sudden tension, “because I think we both already know. That cat’s kinda gotten out of the bag and into a threesome.”

It worked, Ronan laughed, just a short bark but it was something.

 

“Not quite.” And he just took a moment to look at them both, Adam next to him and Gansey on the other corner of the sectional. This was the last second he would live in a world where they didn’t know. He was scared. He was annoyed at himself for being scared. So he just spit it out. “I can take things out of my dreams.”

Adam and Gansey glanced at each other and had a brief conversation with their eyes alone. Ronan both loved and hated that they could already do that.

 

“What does that mean, exactly?” Adam said, tone careful. And Ronan was expecting this, expecting some measure of disbelief, but it still twisted itself inside him. He looked over, and Gansey’s careful excitement (as though his only concern was that it might all be a joke) soothed Ronan again.

 

“If I dream something, I can take it with me, I can make it real. Even if it’s impossible, as long as it works in the dream it works in real life.”

“Anything?” Gansey asked, not questioning the validity but examining the specifics. “Could you dream a car?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried. I’ve never brought anything back that big before, but I think I could, yeah.”

“Do you know how it works?” Adam asked and his eyes were still wary but he was going along with it, clearly unwilling to play the Straight Man in whatever kind of joke this was.

“Not really. I know my dad could do it.” And then, because he didn’t want to see that look for one more second, he went and grabbed the biplane from his bedside table. “Look.” he said, handing it to Adam to examine.

 

“So, you dreamt this?” Adam asked. “It’s good.” Unsaid was that it was clearly something that could be made, if not by Ronan than by someone else with a talent for origami. He passed it to Gansey who held it carefully, as if it would slip out of existence if pressed too hard for answers.

“It flies.” Ronan said, looking at Adam, “On it’s own. Just spin the propellor.”

 

Adam held out his hand, not looking away from Ronan for a long moment. Gansey gave up the plane rather begrudgingly. Adam looked down at the small bit of, perhaps, magic that sat on his palm. With one finger he gently nudged the propellor. It spun easily, but then continued to spin, picking up speed without any further prompting. And then, without a sound, because Ronan hadn’t dreamt it with noise, it took flight. It flew as though piloted by an invisible hand, and in the quiet Ronan heard Adam’s sharp breath inward. Gansey, when Ronan looked at him, was grinning like the world had been made new in front of him, incandescent with the joy of possibilities.

 

“You marvelous creature.” he whispered and Ronan felt it like a match in the kindling of his own fears.

“I don’t always do it on purpose.” Ronan said as the fire roared brightly for the moment. 

“Sometimes I bring back…” things, creatures, “nightmares.”

“What kind of nightmares?” Adam asked.

“The kind where things try to kill me.”

 

There was a silence then, as they each contemplated this new world. Ronan, where he had no secrets. Gansey and Adam, he imagined, where nightmares could become real.

And then, earnest as only Gansey could be: “What can we do to help?”

The fears were flashpaper and with that they were extinguished. He was filled with relief, so much so that it choked him. He grit his teeth and met their eyes until the feeling passed.

 

“I’m not sure. My mother used to wake me slowly, that helped, but the nightmares weren’t as bad back then. Just, be prepared. Keep something by your bed; if you hear something go bump in the night don’t turn over and go back to sleep; that kind of thing.”

 

They both nodded, as though it were easy, or at least reasonable. How could they, Ronan wondered, knowing they held a viper in their hands, not drop it and instead choose to take measures not to be bitten? It was baffling but wonderfully so.

Ronan was empty without his silence to fill him, drained and relieved. The conversation continued, more questions, some with answers, most without.

_ They know, they know, they know _ . It was a different kind of impossible made real.

* * *

 

In a lot of ways nothing changed. In some ways everything did. Ronan still woke up with odd trinkets and annoying little puzzles which he knew for a fact couldn’t be solved. He still had nightmares from which he woke panting and clutching fistfuls of feathers. 

But now, sometimes he could go down and Gansey would still be up. And Ronan would show him the puzzles and let his anxious insomnia expend itself pouring over them for a few hours before Ronan finally told him it was hopeless.

Or sometimes, he would jolt awake with his hand already clenched around something and his first thought would be  _ no, no what did I do _ . But it was Adam, fingers intertwined with his, whispering in his ear, open switchblade in the other hand, just in case. If waking up was like falling, then this was a like a trust fall exercise where Adam caught him before he hit the ground.

 

And to a certain extent it seemed the night terrors had fed on Ronan secrecy and shame because afterwards they were less vicious, more malleable. Still terrifying, because his body was wired to fear them, but not so dangerous as they used to be.

 

The spring turned to summer and Adam finished school for the year. He picked up a job tutoring middle schoolers in Math and Science. They were mostly rich little assholes used to getting good grades because their parents paid for the building they were sitting in. But Adam was paid by the tutoring company so he didn’t have to play nice and Ronan loved hearing stories about Adam’s deadpan refusal to take their shit.

 

Between the garage, the coffeeshop, the tutoring gig and the occasional Friday night, Adam didn’t have much more free time than he did during the school year. But he and Ronan carved out time when they could. Tuesday and Thursday Adam didn’t have to be anywhere until eleven so they always got breakfast. They had tried various places before settling on the same hole-in-the-wall diner they’d been to back in winter when Adam was sick.

 

This morning it was empty except for a girl at the counter with headphones on and a pair of teenagers asleep in a booth at the back (no doubt hungover). Ronan was surprisingly not too hungover himself. Yesterday had been the Fourth and instead of getting shitfaced at Kavinsky’s party like he had the last few years Ronan had allowed Gansey to drag him and Adam to some party his parents were throwing. The servers had been handing out drinks all night and Ronan had drained his while Adam had looked at his own like they would bite him. So, like the good boyfriend he was, Ronan had drunk them as well. It was enough to get tipsy but not really truly drunk. He had gotten a bit too aggressive with a few of the younger WASPs who had looked down their nose at Adam’s suit (borrowed from Ronan and thus not the best fitted ensemble). But punches had, just barely, not been thrown so Ronan considered it a win.

 

The waitress came and set down their orders: pancakes for Adam; hashbrowns, eggs and bacon for Ronan. And coffee for both of them.

When Adam wrapped a long-fingered and lightly freckled hand around the mug Ronan noticed a bizarre twine and bead bracelet around his wrist.

 

“Has Gansey finally given in and started making friendship bracelets?” Ronan asked.

“Close, it’s from Blue.”

“But it  _ is  _ a friendship bracelet.” Ronan said, not quite a question.

“Slash birthday present, yeah.”

“When was your birthday?”

“The other day.” Adam said, shrugging like it didn’t matter. Ronan wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Had Adam somehow decided they were not in the stage of their relationship where they celebrated birthdays? That was stupid.

 

“Tell me you finally turned twenty-one so we can celebrate properly at some bars I know.” Ronan said.

Adam was in the middle of a rather large bite of pancake and he looked up before carefully chewing and swallowing.

“Not quite. Gotta wait another three years for that.” Adam said and Ronan didn’t register what he meant at first, too busy watching the way his eyes scanned the empty booths around them.

Then something seemed odd about that statement. It took him a second before it really hit him.

 

“You just turned eighteen.” It certainly wasn’t a question. It just barely avoided being an accusation.

Adam set his silverware down on the edge of his plate. “Yeah.” he said.

Ronan had always known Adam was younger than him. He had assumed that he was nineteen or twenty, young but not  _ criminally  _ so.

As if he could read Ronan’s mind he said, “The age of consent in D.C. is sixteen, It’s fine.”

Ronan didn’t think anger was quite the right response in this situation. But anger was generally his first if not only response so he was trying to figure out what to say.

“You’re in high school?” he asked and Adam nodded. Part of Ronan felt a bit sick.

It wasn’t… it wasn’t as though Ronan had known, had purposely been attracted to Adam or picked him up up because he was young. And part of him believed that age, while not just a number, didn’t matter as much as a whole bunch of other shit. But there was still a twinge of  _ this is fucked up _ that Ronan couldn’t ignore.

 

Adam crossed his arms, meeting his gaze challengingly.

“Is this gonna be a problem?” he asked.

It shouldn’t be. It didn’t change every other thing Ronan knew about Adam, didn’t change how he acted like an adult, lived on his own and made his own decisions.

 

“Don’t you think this is something I should have  _ known _ ?” And there was the sticking point. Not even the age, but the barest breath away from lying that Adam had apparently been this whole time. And Ronan knew all about nondisclosure. But still, this seemed pointed, deceitful.

But Adam didn’t look like someone caught in a not-quite-lie.

 

“I assumed you knew. Or guessed.” He shrugged and the anger slowly trickled out Ronan’s toes as he stared at Adam’s face.

Finally he slumped forward, elbows on either side of his plate and head resting in his hands.

 

“Fuck,” Ronan said, “I’m a fucking cradle robber.”

Adam snorted.

“Unintentional. And anyway, you’re only what, twenty-two?”

“Twenty-four.” Ronan corrected.

“Huh.” Adam said, completely unperturbed. And that more than anything soothed Ronan’s conscience. If it had bothered Adam, if it had somehow made him feel powerless or used, then it would have bothered Ronan. But it didn’t seem to matter to Adam, and so, Ronan supposed, it wouldn’t matter to him either.

* * *

 

Besides breakfast in the mornings, Ronan usually picked Adam up from either the garage or the coffeeshop in the evenings. And then they stayed the night at one of their apartments.

It was a Monday and Gansey had taken Blue off for a week in Costa Rica studying birds or ruins or something like that so Ronan’s place was the obvious choice.

 

They had stopped and picked up dinner on the drive over. But in the freight elevator on the ride up Adam pulled the bags out of Ronan’s hands and set them to one side. Then Adam kissed him, pressing closer and closer until Ronan was crowded up against the back wall of the elevator. By now Ronan knew what this maneuver meant and he obligingly lifted Adam up so he could wrap his legs around Ronan’s waist. He leaned back letting the wall take most of their combined weight and focused on Adam’s hand spanning the base of his skull, and Adam’s lips soft and insistent on his jaw, and Adam’s smell like engine grease and summer sweat and his strong, cheap shampoo ( _ what the fuck did  _ Alpine Snow  _ even smell like? _ ).

 

The elevator shuddered to a stop and Ronan barely even noticed. Adam kissed him deeply, bit at his lips and sucked for a moment on his tongue, filthy and heated, before squirming out of his arms, pulling the grate back and stepping into the apartment. Adam held the grate and stared smugly at Ronan until he had the presence of mind to roll his eyes and follow.

 

“I’m going to have a shower.” Adam said, walking past Ronan toward the bathroom. “And you forgot the food in the elevator.”

“Fuck you.” Ronan said, laughing and turning back around to get the abandoned food. He dropped it in the kitchen before following Adam into the bathroom. “Or,” he said when he got there. “We could both have a bath.”

 

Adam tried to pretend he was too efficient and sensible to enjoy baths but Ronan knew that was a fucking lie. After working at the garage he liked to scrub his hands until the oil stains faded and then let them rest in the water while the tips of his fingers turned pruny. And Ronan deeply suspected that Adam enjoyed the utter decadence of having a bathtub big enough for two.

 

Adam looked over and raised an eyebrow.

Ronan gave a sharp grin back, daring him to do anything but exactly what they both wanted.

“You twisted my arm.” Adam said, shrugging and putting the plug in so the bath could start to fill.

 

Getting them both undressed took time since they had to stop to kiss after every article of clothing. By the time they were done the bath was so full they had to let out a bit of water so it didn’t splash over the sides when they got it. Ronan sat behind Adam with his arms along the side of the bath while Adam washed his hands and forearms. He unfortunately cottoned on to the grease smear he had on his neck that Ronan had been carefully kissing around.

When the room smelled like Gansey’s fancy citrus mint body wash and Adam finally decided he was clean he let himself relax back against Ronan’s chest, knees bent and legs spread. His cock was hard and red under the warm, soapy water. Ronan trailed his hands across and down Adam’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, combing his fingers through the hair at the base of Adam’s dick.

Adam let his head fall back onto Ronan’s shoulder as Ronan wrapped one hand firmly around his cock. The air was thick with steam rising from the bath and Ronan let his voice go low and heady to match.

“That’s it. Let me take care of you. Love touching you. Love to- yeah,” he said as Adam rolled his hips up to meet Ronan’s stroke. He was careful and the water didn’t go over the sides but Ronan honestly didn’t give a shit about the potential for water damage. He wanted Adam to lose it, wanted him to fuck up into Ronan’s fist and grind back against Ronan’s dick until they both came and the floor was a fucking mess. And Ronan told him so, whispered it all in his ear as he groaned and panted.

Ronan’s free hand came down to nudge at Adam’s hole. Adam hooked one leg up along the edge of the bath to give him more room. Ronan didn’t push in, just rubbed teasingly along Adam’s rim with his fingertips.

 

Adam was already close, Ronan could tell. And he could easily have backed off when Adam’s breath started to hitch, could have teased him along the edge of pleasure. But he liked the way Adam’s hands were clenched in the water by his legs, not touching himself, as though he trusted Ronan to take care of him, to give him what he wanted. 

So Ronan rubbed his thumb over the head of Adam’s cock on the upstroke and just barely pushed into his hole with the other hand and that was all it took. Adam bucked and came, moaning so loud it echoed off the bathroom walls.

 

He planted both feet under the water again afterwards and rubbed his ass back against Ronan until Ronan came in a tight, sweet swoop of pleasure. And then they sat in the cooling water for just a minute longer, feeling everywhere their bodies touched and all the ways they fit together perfectly when they let themselves.

 

They let the water out and dried off. Adam gave Ronan a dirty look as he mopped up the spilled water but Ronan was completely unapologetic.

Then they ate their mostly cold dinner straight out of the containers while sitting on Ronan’s bed naked.

 

“You know,” Adam said, “I was thinking about the Barns.”

And the name of his home no longer sounded like a dirge. It was sad but not unfathomably so.

“You can’t go there because of the will, right?”

“Right.” Ronan said, not seeing where this was going but infinitely willing to humor Adam.

“Why don’t you dream up a new will?”

“What?”

“It says right there in the will,” they had found it last time they were at the Barns, “the last line, ‘unless a newer document is created’.”

“So I could dream up a new will, dated later, that says I can go to the Barns.” Ronan said, as the possibilities dawned on him, as the whole world opened up before his eyes. 

“Just one identical signature and it would be indisputable in a court of law.” Adam sounded pleased and hopeful and the feeling was infectious.

“Adam.” Ronan said, disbelief in his voice yet deep down not surprised at all by Adam’s brilliance. “Adam.” he said again, and he meant _ I think this might work _ , he meant  _ I’ve never felt this happy _ , he meant  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ .

And he was pretty sure Adam heard every word.

  
The End


End file.
